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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258579">Everything?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/villanevehaus/pseuds/villanevehaus'>villanevehaus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AA, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Dark Eve Polastri, Eve fucks Niko, Everyone has feelings, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fingering, Knives, Light Knifeplay, Masturbation, Power Play, Rough Sex, also of course carolyn fences, bumping this to E to be safe, definitely not jealous nuh uh, eve being old, eve faces a horny moral quandry, eve pov, filling the gaps in canon, i am driving eve's brain now, i hate aaron peele, marie is pushed in front of a truck for eve and she doesnt know how to feel about it, she's not thinking about Niko tho, watch me bend canon to my will like its nothing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:27:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/villanevehaus/pseuds/villanevehaus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Villanelle pushes her harder, hips fitting with Eve’s as they adjust to the movement. She feels the point of the knife in her side with the expansion of a breath and braces herself to be gutted.</p><p>“Will you give me everything I want?”</p><p>Villanelle puts her weight behind the blade. Not enough to break the skin, or tear her shirt- to tell her she's in control.</p><p>“Yes,” she gasps. MI6 will pay her lavishly. </p><p>She burns between her thighs as Villanelle crushes her into the counter, a whimper betraying her. Villanelle draws her bottom lip between her teeth.</p><p>“Everything?”</p><p>- </p><p>or, what if they fucked in 2 x 05 and it made everything insanely more complicated for everyone involved?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Niko Polastri, Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, eve polastri / complex feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>446</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. say it, Eve.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>2 x 05 in Eve's home</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yea we gay keep scrolling</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their bedspread sinks under Eve’s tired weight and she lets out a sigh. The room is quiet save for their alarm clock ticking dutifully along by the bedside. </p><p>She sits facing their wall length mirror, the one Niko makes a face at every morning when his belly pokes out just a little bit more than he expected. She used to reassure him with a teasing lilt, snaking her arms around his front and patting his softness affectionately. She would make a joke about being a perfect pillow to come home to after a hard day, and then she’d kiss his bristly moustache like the good wife she was.</p><p>Not anymore, not for a while now. Eve can’t remember the last time she thought of him as soft- at least, in a good way. </p><p>The thought of his moustache makes her lips twitch and she rubs her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to rub away the phantom scratches that her skin is too familiar with </p><p>She catches sight of herself in the mirror and groans.</p><p>
  <em>It’s so fucking obvious.</em>
</p><p>Picking fingertips make quick work of the elastic in her hair and she runs her hands through her black curls a few times, tilting her head here and there to try and help hide the look of it. </p><p>Eve adjusts her neckline, does and undoes the top button, tugs at the sleeves. She pulls the vest down under her shirt and tries to straighten out her bunched up shoulders. Standing up she flattens the shirt against her front, moving to the side to look at her own profile.</p><p>
  <em>I look like a cardboard box.</em>
</p><p>Eve groans again. </p><p>She turns in the mirror once more before she huffs and starts unbuttoning her shirt, weighing the risks.</p><p>Villanelle will know immediately. She needs Villanelle to trust her and she won’t if she’s wearing a bulletproof vest that literally screams <em>I Do Not Trust You!</em> She needs Villanelle calm and thinking she’s the one in control.</p><p>
  <em>Plus, she’s made it clear she knows what my body looks like, and that she thinks it’s… nice.</em>
</p><p>Eve tries to deny the warmth that trickles into her chest, remembering the last time Villanelle visited her home. </p><p><em>Their</em> home, her mind nags. <em>Niko lives here too. </em></p><p>She wishes she felt guiltier, felt more for him like she used to. It’d be easier if she had never met Villanelle. </p><p>She’d probably be less distracted, more present for him. She wouldn’t zone out at dinner, bored numb with his daily goings of maths and children and the British education system. Maybe she would have asked him if she could tag along to that school trip. He’d be really happy about that, absolutely thrilled she was taking some time off from work. </p><p>Her mind wouldn’t wander to honey-blonde hair and wide eyes, perfect lips curling around softly accented vowels, how close she’d been to those lips in Paris, on her bed- she wouldn’t have a sharp pang between her thighs at the memory of her hot blood spilling onto her hands. She would probably think of Niko, and <em>only</em> Niko. </p><p>She wouldn’t wake and think immediately of Villanelle.</p><p>Eve stares at herself wearing the vest when the doorbell rings.</p><p>The velcro rips the quiet of the room in two before Eve tosses the armour on the bed and pads downstairs.</p><p>A tall, dark figure comes more into focus the closer she gets to the frosted glass of their front door. She doesn’t need full transparency to know it’s Villanelle waiting for her on the other side.</p><p>The lock is heavy as it turns over. Eve affords herself one last steadying breath before turning the handle and swinging the door open.</p><p>Villanelle’s blood-red lips tug with excitement. She’s wearing a stylish dotted black veil and a floor-length semi-transparent black gown that makes Eve’s mouth go dry. She breezes into the foyer and her presence pushes Eve’s back to thud lightly on the wall. </p><p>“Don’t do anything stupid,” Eve holds her breath as Villanelle sways into her personal space, “okay?” before she walks into their home, surveying knick-knacks and photos. </p><p>Eve surveys too, letting her eyes touch any part of Villanelle that she can. Her blonde hair is tied back in a low ponytail, leaving the back of her neck exposed to Eve. She brings her hands together to keep them from reaching out to touch the new skin.</p><p>
  <em>She looks so soft…</em>
</p><p>“Can you take your shoes off, please?”</p><p>Villanelle may be an internationally acclaimed assassin here to kill her, but she’s still in Eve’s house. Eve turns her back on her to lock the door.</p><p>“What?” she asks incredulously. Eve waits for her to remove her shoes.</p><p>“Really?” Villanelle’s voice raises at the end.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They hold their gaze, trying to test the water without breaking the surface.</p><p>Villanelle’s mouth snags with a smirk and she leans back against the wall, kicking off her heels. She drops to her real height and still manages to tower over Eve from the other end of the hallway. She rolls off of a shoulder and closes the distance between them, raising her arms as if for a pat-down. In her right hand is a bottle of champagne that probably cost more than their down payment on the house.</p><p>“Do you want to search me, too?”</p><p>Villanelle’s red lips pout with the question, lashes fluttering sweetly. Eve’s eyes skitter over her toned arms that show through her dress and flit once to her chest before looking very squarely at her face.</p><p>“What’s the point?”</p><p>Villanelle’s lips turn smug, edges twitching with something held back. Her eyes spark and lock unwavering with Eve’s- she tilts her chin down just a touch, pushes forward an inch, face shifting just enough for Eve to see a glimmer of genuine warmth. </p><p>
  <em>Right answer.</em>
</p><p>“Can I…” Eve needs to look away from the intensity, tries to lighten the moment so she can breathe “…take your veil?”</p><p>A shadow passes over Villanelle’s features and she straightens, smile dropped to the floor. She looks away from her eyes but not from her face, hollow eyes falling flat on her cheekbones.</p><p>
  <em>Wrong question.</em>
</p><p>Villanelle turns to stride down their hallway toward the kitchen, pulling off her veil as she walks.</p><p>“I’m dying for a drink,” her voice is cold where she leaves Eve in the foyer. She hates that she’s disappointed in herself, wants to rush to Villanelle and ask her if she can try again. </p><p>Eve steals another steadying breath before following her into the kitchen where Villanelle is opening the bottle of champagne. She looks at Eve before she furrows her eyebrows with a sharp inhale.</p><p>“You don’t seem very surprised to see me,” </p><p>“I’m not surprised,” Eve replies quickly. </p><p>Villanelle hums and tilts her head to the side in response. She raises an eyebrow at Eve before looking back down at the bottle in her hands. Her jaw flexes.</p><p>“That’s a little arrogant, don’t you think?” she rounds to look at her again.</p><p>
  <em>She’s offended. </em>
</p><p>“And yet, here you are.” </p><p>
  <em>In my kitchen. Again. Just the two of us.</em>
</p><p>“You’ve been so distracted lately, I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Villanelle punctuates with another pout. Her eyes shine with something darker than her demure front leaves room for. </p><p>
  <em>Is she… jealous?</em>
</p><p>Eve flinches when she pops the cork. She’s been watching her hands working the wrappings and cork as a means of avoiding looking at her eyes. She knew it was coming, just not that it was here. </p><p>“Glass, please.”</p><p>Eve tries to fight the cool balm of calm that comes from the command paired with an expectant gaze. She tells herself she’s only obeying because Villanelle said please, not because she wants to please Villanelle. Oh and she’s an assassin, Eve hastily remembers.</p><p>She places two mugs on the counter and bristles at the laugh that leaves Villanelle’s mouth.</p><p>“We don’t have champagne glasses-”</p><p>“No, this is perfect,” another soft chuckle.</p><p>Eve watches her pour, trying to gauge the best plan of action. </p><p>
  <em>Jealous… or angry?</em>
</p><p>“Are you scared?” Villanelle searches for something in Eve’s features as she plonks her phone into the fizzing bubbles.</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>“No,” she lies, and turns to get another mug. Villanelle’s jaw flexes again as she pours, and hands her the mugful of champagne.</p><p>“Drink.”</p><p>She doesn’t. They stare for a beat of silence. </p><p>“You know, I should be more afraid of you, after what you did to me last time,” her sentence ends in a whisper, keeping the secret of what happened in Paris. </p><p><em>“Are</em> you afraid?” Eve can’t stop the question before it jumps from her mouth.</p><p>“No,” Villanelle answers easily, “you could have killed me.”</p><p>“I know,” Eve wills her voice to stay steady through the next phrase, “I think about that all the time.”</p><p>Villanelle smiles bitterly before anger flares in her features and she sharply nods. </p><p>“Really?” the question is chewed and laden with disbelief.</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>Eve needs her to know it’s the truth, she <em>does</em> think about it all the time, she thinks about it every minute of every day- on the tube and at work and waiting in line for coffee and having breakfast with Niko, having <em>sex</em> with Niko.</p><p>Eve thinks about it whenever she sees a blonde on the street, doesn’t have to imagine what piercing her stomach would feel like because it flashes in her eyes, phantom blood springs hot on her hands but it wouldn’t be <em>her</em>.</p><p>Eve needs to touch her.</p><p>Her hand lands soft on Villanelle’s cheek and for a moment it looks like Villanelle is torn between leaning into the touch or biting her.</p><p>“Do you think about it?” Eve strokes her thumb over her cheekbone.</p><p>A line forms between Villanelle’s eyebrows at the gentle touch and she blinks, mouth falling open a little. Eve swears she feels her push into her palm.</p><p>“All the time,” her voice is low and honest. </p><p>Eve is sure the glisten in Villanelle’s eyes is mirrored by her own. </p><p>Villanelle pulls away from her hand suddenly as her eyes glaze with the same something from the hallway. Eve takes her hand back like she’s been burned.</p><p>“Are you going to apologize to me?” Villanelle asks. </p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p>“No,” Eve says, “are you?”</p><p>Villanelle smiles and blinks slowly as if this was the most ridiculous question Eve could have asked her.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Okay, good. There we are then,” Eve breaks their eye contact and walks away from Villanelle toward the dining table, avoiding her questioning glare.</p><p>“I- I need your help, with something important,” Eve starts.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Villanelle pours more into her mug and deflects, “Why don’t you drink your champagne?”</p><p>“Nice outfit,” Eve can deflect too.</p><p>Villanelle tilts her chin up. Her top lip twitches. </p><p>“I thought I would dress for the occasion.”</p><p>“Oh, what’s the occasion?” Eve plays dumb, letting Villanelle think she’s still a step ahead of her. </p><p>“I’m about to be in mourning.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that.”</p><p>“You know I’m here to kill you?!” Villanelle finally bursts. Her accent handles her words with less care when she’s angry.</p><p>“Yes, it was my idea.”</p><p>Villanelle’s face is quite literally priceless.</p><p>“No…” she shakes her head. </p><p>“I told you, I need your help, I… I needed to see you,” Eve admits, hoping Villanelle doesn’t catch the tremble in her voice.</p><p>“So you hired me to kill you?” A bewildered grin splits across her face.</p><p>Her incisors look so sharp…</p><p>“Yes-”</p><p>Villanelle rounds the kitchen counter and glides to meet her in the living room, black gown billowing behind her. </p><p>“That is so <em>stupid,”</em> she laughs before raising her voice, “what if I hit you with a car, what if I <em>shot</em> you!”</p><p>“You wouldn’t,” Eve says more confidently than she should.</p><p>“I <em>wouldn’t?”</em> Villanelle imitates her.  </p><p>Eve shakes her head in a defiant <em>no,</em> curls brushing her bare shoulders. </p><p>She’s sure.</p><p>“Tch… Eve…” Villanelle closes her eyes and laughs again. She withdraws a small bottle of pills and sets it on their dining table in front of Eve.</p><p>“What is that?” Eve eyes the bottle.</p><p>Villanelle walks back to the kitchen counter and picks up the bottle of champagne, setting it down on the dining table after holding it up for Eve to see. </p><p>“To get rid of the taste,” she explains. She doesn’t break eye contact as she pulls out a chair to sit, knees spread wide.</p><p>Eve realizes this is her cue to sit as well, so she does.</p><p>Three pills skitter out onto the table between her hands. She looks at them before looking back up to Villanelle.</p><p>Villanelle is a mask of calm, nods at her to get going.</p><p>
  <em>She needs to feel in control…</em>
</p><p>Eve is sure Villanelle wouldn’t kill her when she swallows the first pill. She watches Villanelle’s face with the movement, from the swig of the champagne to the swallow and her expression remains the same throughout. Villanelle would care if she died because so she doesn’t want to kill her. </p><p>She’ll take these pills and Villanelle will reward her for trusting an obsessive assassin, and then Eve will show her to the car and she’ll help her with the Ghost and then all this Ghost shit will be over and done with. </p><p>She finishes with a last triumphant swig of champagne. </p><p>Villanelle’s eyes start frantically searching her face. </p><p>“What did you do?” Villanelle whispers, an exhale marking where a laugh would be. A squirm of panic writhes in her gut.</p><p>“Wh-wh, what did you do, why did you do that? <em>Eve?”</em> her voice is strained, previous bitter composure cast aside. Villanelle leans forward to look at the emptied bottle of pills and breathes another shaky laugh. </p><p>“I didn’t think that you would actually do it!”</p><p>Eve’s breathing quickens with a gasp, eyes ripping from the scene on the table to Villanelle’s terrified eyes.</p><p>“That is <em>arsenic,”</em> her hands are shaking, “don’t just sit there, <em>do</em> something, <em>get it out!”</em> Villanelle shouts.</p><p>Eve knocks her chair over when she stands as fast as she can and runs for the kitchen sink.</p><p><em>“Go,</em> Eve, get it out! <em>Eve,</em> get it out, <em>hurry!”</em></p><p>Eve bends at the waist and gags on the two fingers she crams down her throat, desperately trying to vomit the poison she’d so willingly eaten. Retching coughs catch in the back of her throat, she cries and adds a third.</p><p>“Quickly, Eve! You need to-“ Villanelle’s shouts morph to deep laughter as she clutches her stomach, catching her breath. </p><p>She slumps over the sink to spit into the drain. Hot tears wet her face.</p><p>“Of <em>course</em> it isn’t poison, do you think I’m <em>insane?”</em></p><p>Eve turns the sink on, scooping water in her palm and drinking through ragged breaths.</p><p>“Eve, you are too easy,” Villanelle’s hand reaches for her waist, the other for her back. </p><p>Eve doesn’t have time to register the blistering touch before she’s being spun in Villanelle’s arms and pressed against the counter, the tip of a curved blade pointed at her sternum. Her hand flies to grip at Villanelle’s arm and crushes the mesh fabric to her elbow. </p><p>Villanelle tightens her grasp around her waist. Painted lips drop open as her eyes rake freely down Eve’s neck, chest, breasts before snapping back up to lock eyes again. </p><p>Villanelle’s eyes are blown, a thin band of gold all that’s visible around her pupils. <br/> <br/>“I’m expensive…”</p><p>She trails the blade down her chest, tip catching at her shirt between her breasts. Eve’s breath hitches in her throat but she can’t look away, doesn’t <em>want</em> to look at anything but Villanelle.</p><p>Villanelle draws the point of the knife lower on her abdomen to the soft spot under her diaphragm, between her ribs.</p><p>“I know,” Eve says and closes her eyes as the tip grazes her stomach, wishes she could feel the cool metal on her skin. Villanelle moves the blade down and to the right with the precision of rehearsal.</p><p>
  <em>Right there, that’s where I… that’s where her scar is. On me.</em>
</p><p>Villanelle pushes her harder, hips fitting with Eve’s as they adjust to the movement. She feels the point of the knife in her side with the expansion of a breath and braces herself to be gutted.</p><p>“Will you give me everything I want?”</p><p>Villanelle puts her weight behind the blade. Not enough to break the skin, or tear her shirt- to tell her she’s in control.</p><p>“Yes,” Eve gasps. MI6 will pay her lavishly. </p><p>She burns between her thighs as Villanelle crushes her into the counter, a whimper betraying her. Villanelle draws her bottom lip between her teeth.</p><p>
  <em>“Everything?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is a trap.</em>
</p><p>“Yes,”</p><p>“Say it.”</p><p>“Say what?” Eve tries to stall.</p><p>
  <em>I want to! I’m just- married! And you’re an assassin! Who killed my best friend! And also you’re like twenty-eight! There’s a lot going on, okay?!</em>
</p><p>Villanelle runs the pointed blade along the crest of her hip bone and Eve’s eyelids flutter just enough to give herself away.</p><p>Villanelle grins at the prize of her actions. She leans in to graze her lips to Eve’s temple and Eve’s eyes slip shut as her skin courses with an electric buzz- Villanelle’s face is <em>so</em> close to hers, she can smell her perfume- their cheeks meet and Eve restrains a whine. </p><p>
  <em>Is it a trap if you run straight into it, pretending you’re not?</em>
</p><p>“Say that you’ll give me <em>everything</em>… I want.”</p><p>“I- I can’t…” Eve tries to hold on to the last shreds of her life.</p><p>
  <em>Please, Villanelle.</em>
</p><p>“Say it, Eve,” Villanelle whispers, “what will you give me?” she brushes her lips against Eve’s ear and breathes sweetly.</p><p>Eve doesn’t even try to stifle the moan that parts her lips.</p><p>
  <em>What do I have to lose?</em>
</p><p><em>“Everything,”</em> Eve gives in, “I’ll give you everything you want.”</p><p>A groan rumbles low in the back of Villanelle’s throat. Eve’s grip tightens on the tight mesh of Villanelle’s sleeve.</p><p>“You’ve been such a good girl, Eve,” Villanelle purrs, gently placing a single red kiss under her ear. Eve feels a pull low in her hips, breath catching again.</p><p>“You are so <em>sure</em> that I’m not going to kill you,” she drags the blade up Eve’s side at a slow pace. Eve feels the curve of a smile against her temple.</p><p>“Why?” Villanelle places another mark on her jaw.</p><p>“I don’t-“</p><p>“It’s because we are the same, Eve,” Villanelle pulls back slowly to look at her, “you think I’m not going to kill you because right now, I think I will not kill you.”</p><p>Eve blinks and looks between Villanelle’s eyes.</p><p>“I thought you weren’t going to kill me in Paris,” she continues, “you didn’t. I mean, sure- you <em>stabbed</em> me…” Villanelle lines the point of the blade up to where it would match again and pushes enough to pinch. </p><p>Eve’s breath hitches, “…but I don’t <em>want</em> to stab you.”</p><p>Villanelle grazes the underside of Eve’s breast with the flat edge of the blade and Eve’s hips try to move. </p><p>Villanelle pins her to the counter harder. Eve feels wetness seeping into her underwear.</p><p>“You thought I wouldn’t hit you with a car, or shoot you?” she rolls her hips into Eve, “I didn’t.”</p><p>“You thought those pills weren’t poison,” she rolls her hips again and is met by a mewl, “they weren’t.”</p><p>“You wanted me to find you here, tonight,” she presses herself flush against Eve’s front <em>“I found you.”</em></p><p>Villanelle rocks back a step to set the knife down on the counter and adjusts her hands so she has one on each of Eve’s hips. Her hands sear the skin through Eve’s thin pants.</p><p>Villanelle pulls her away from the counter to join their hips again only to thud her back against it and chuckles darkly.</p><p>“And right now, you think I’m going to fuck you…?”</p><p>She throbs.</p><p>“… because I <em>am</em> going to fuck you, Eve.”</p><p><em>“Villanelle,”</em> she breathes, and it’s all Villanelle needs to rip ferociously at the zipper of her pants. Long, cool fingers glide under her underwear and past wiry brush with no pretext of exploration.</p><p>Her knees buckle when Villanelle finds her clit with ease, drawing featherlight circles with a soft fingertip. Eve clutches to Villanelle when her fingers move down to find Eve absolutely saturated.</p><p>“Oh, <em>sweet Eve…”</em> and pushes a digit between her folds, sinking in only to the first knuckle. Eve twists her hips and pulls at Villanelle’s dress, she wants her deeper, to meet her palm and feel Villanelle slam into her.</p><p>She ignores Eve’s silent pleas and returns to her clit, spreading wetness with every stroke. Eve is overcome by a moan that only makes Villanelle’s pace accelerate cruelly.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck, I’m not going to last long.</em>
</p><p>The sounds of her want fill the kitchen she shares with her forgotten husband. Villanelle roughly palms her breast, making Eve rut against her hand.</p><p>She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to grind down in a way that conveys where she wants her, where she <em>needs</em> her.</p><p>“Is there something you would like?” Villanelle slows her circles, lightens her touch to barely a graze. Eve whimpers- she should have known better.</p><p><em>“Please…”</em> she whines.</p><p>“Please <em>what,</em> Eve?”</p><p>Eve opens her eyes to meet Villanelle’s already waiting for hers. She swallows.</p><p>“Please… fuck me.”</p><p>Villanelle slides two long fingers inside of her and watches her jaw drops open. </p><p>She gasps when she pulls them out and they’re replaced immediately with three. Villanelle studies her face intently as she moves her fingers.</p><p>She thrusts slowly, knuckle to fingertip. Eve squirms between Villanelle and the counter, straining to open her legs wider. She can hear Villanelle sliding in and out of her and hates that she loves it, squirms turning desperate.</p><p>Her fingers pick up speed and Eve grunts, eyes sliding shut. Villanelle catches a hardened nipple between her fingers through her flimsy shirt and Eve cries out- she might have actually taken cyanide, died, and gone to heaven.</p><p><em>“Yes,</em> oh m- <em>yesss,”</em> Eve tries to meet each of Villanelle’s hard thrusts with a cant of her hips, arches her breasts closer to Villanelle. She can’t keep her eyes open, she’s more turned on than she has been in years and Villanelle is hitting <em>just</em> the right spot with every pulse of her hand.</p><p>Villanelle sinks deeper into Eve and stills her buried digits, raising her head to watch Eve again when she flutters them inside her. As Eve opens questioning eyes she expertly adjusts her hand to allow for her to stroke Eve’s swollen clit with her thumb, gliding back and forth.</p><p>Her gut tightens and a wave of sparks crackles beneath her skin, her hands clutch at shoulders, a sleeve, the front of her dress before wrapping around the back of Villanelle’s neck.</p><p>One soft kiss from Villanelle’s lips sends her over the edge, clenching hard around her fingers and twitching on her thumb. She sees stars, writhes between Villanelle’s fingers and the kitchen counter as the pressure wound tight in her hips is shot into release.</p><p>Eve’s fingernails dig further into the nape of Villanelle’s neck, begging and pulling to meld their lips again- she’ll have half moons from Eve hidden under her collar. Villanelle smirks against her searching mouth and thrums her clit, pumps her fingers harder and harder. </p><p>A scream rips out of Eve’s mouth before Villanelle withdraws her hand and steps back from Eve in one swift motion.</p><p>Eve’s eyes fly open and she tries to regain her balance, having lost Villanelle to cling to. Her cunt aches for the loss of Villanelle’s fingers and her thighs shake. </p><p>“Wh-”</p><p>Villanelle licks her fingers thoroughly clean and Eve can only twitch at her emptiness.</p><p>“There is a car outside, yes?” Villanelle asks, raising her eyebrows with the question.</p><p>“Y-y…” she pants, “uh, yes? Are yo-”</p><p>“Let’s not keep them waiting, then,” she scolds. Eve stares at her in trembling silence. </p><p>“Eve?” Villanelle plays.</p><p>“Did you see the car? When y-”</p><p>“No, I assumed when you asked for my help with something important it would be tonight, probably immediately after asking me, and you don’t live near anything important. So, car.”</p><p>“Oh… okay. I, um… I- still, want,”</p><p>Villanelle flashes a cheshire smile.</p><p>“What do you <em>still</em> want, Eve?”</p><p>
  <em>Everything.</em>
</p><p>“More.”</p><p>Villanelle tilts her chin down and the corner of her mouth quirks.</p><p>“A <em>lot</em> more,” Eve is made bold by her undoing. </p><p>Villanelle’s eyes darken at the confession, leaning down to connect their mouths with bruising force and Eve feels the air leave her lungs. She kisses back hungrily, pliant against her lips and breathing heavily through her nose. Villanelle runs a smooth tongue across her bottom lip and Eve moans into her mouth at the taste of herself mixed with Villanelle.</p><p>She pulls back again, leaving Eve dumbfounded.</p><p>“Come on, Eve. We don’t want to be late. Get a jacket, you will be cold.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. do you want to watch?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>2 x 05 after Eve's home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>are we surprised i couldn't leave this alone? no</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Eve, you left your door open.”</p><p>She tears her eyes from Villanelle’s and turns to find that she had, indeed left her front door open. </p><p>
  <em>What was the point of closing it now, when what she was trying to keep out had already been welcomed inside?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In more ways than one…</em>
</p><p>Eve shakes her head.</p><p>“Yeah,” and turns to close it.   </p><p>Her hand rests on the cool metal of the doorknob and she can’t do anything but look back at Villanelle. The car is waiting, they have to go, she knows Carolyn is waiting on this vital intel but she’s just… </p><p>
  <em>Here.</em>
</p><p>She’s finally here, in front of her. </p><p>
  <em>For the interrogation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Ghost.</em>
</p><p>She doesn’t try to lock it, has no idea where her keys are anyways. Her hand swings heavy as she takes a readying breath and locks her eyes on the car waiting for them.</p><p>
  <em>Your job, Eve, focus. Peele. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Ghost is killing people.</em>
</p><p>Eve can feel Villanelle’s eyes follow her from a few paces back. She steels herself for the upcoming interrogation and tries not to jump at the sound of the engine coming to life. </p><p>Villanelle’s heels click on the pavement closer and closer until the sound is right beside Eve. She chances a glance toward the sound and feels-</p><p>
  <em>Warm. </em>
</p><p>Villanelle possesses the gown rather than wears it, the fabric flowing as if commanded by the movements of her body. She looks determined, focused. There’s a freckle she’s never noticed before to the right of her mouth. Her eyes brim with curiosity and a dedication so earnest it squeezes Eve’s heart between her ribs. </p><p>Hazel flashes at her eyes as Villanelle meets her staring. Eve inspects the path at her feet. She looks at the car and tells herself she can’t help it if her eyes bounce over Villanelle on their way there.</p><p>Their hands brush as they walk and they both look at one another as it happens. Eve thumb runs across the pads of her fingertips and holds them between her own for the spark of a millisecond. Villanelle pulls ahead of her and tugs Eve by the hand.</p><p>Villanelle squeezes her fingertip before dropping her hand to sweep in front of her in a few long strides to open the back door for her. </p><p>
  <em>And a gentleman, too.</em>
</p><p>It’s dangerously close to sweet, and it hurts a little to turn and continue around the front of the car to open her own door.</p><p>
  <em>We aren’t… friends?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re a dangerous psychopathic assassin here to interrogate and possibly torture another assassin for information about a string of suspicious killings that will likely expose a corrupt underground world organization. </em>
</p><p>Eve prickles at the string of clinical rehearsed words rolling through her head.</p><p><em>“The Ghost is killing people”,</em> Eve mocks herself, <em>as if the woman who just fingerfucked me to high heaven doesn’t kill people.</em></p><p>The slam of the car door brings her back to Earth. </p><p>Eve’s wide eyes find a direct gaze laying in wait. </p><p>It’s surreal to exist in a confined space with Villanelle’s presence. In place of oxygen, a brilliant liquid haze of being surrounds her instead.</p><p>Eve scans her surroundings. The standard MI6 issue SUV has semi tinted and likely bulletproof windows that match the central window of a built-in partition. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Villanelle turn to look out the window at the houses blurring outside. </p><p>Eve watches her eyes flick side to side with every disappearing house. Eve’s eyes dance across Villanelle’s features, tracing the edge of her nose and the dip of her cupid’s bow. Eve’s stomach jumps upon seeing a smudge of red on the edge of her bottom lip. </p><p>She licks her lip and delights in the taste of lipstick. </p><p>“Eve,” Villanelle says her name without looking away from the window, startling her at being addressed while brazenly staring. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“When you said you wanted more,” Villanelle turns her head to flash her eyes at Eve “a lot more…”</p><p>
  <em>Bait. </em>
</p><p>“What did you mean by that?”</p><p>Eve’s mouth stutters open before she has an answer for it. </p><p>“I…” she tries but can’t get any further. </p><p>They lurch forward with a harsh stop as their car is cut off by a motorcyclist. The driver beats the steering wheel twice with a fist and Eve is reminded that despite how it feels, they’re not alone. There’s another silence while they round a corner.  </p><p>“Did you mean you wanted me to fuck you some more?”</p><p>Villanelle continues before she can so much as react, “or do you want to fuck me?”</p><p>Eve’s eyes shock open and she gestures her head emphatically in the direction of the driver.</p><p>“You want to fuck the <em>driver?</em> Seriously, Eve? Ouch.”</p><p>
  <em>“Villanelle!”</em>
</p><p>“What? I’m trying to clarify.”</p><p>“Can you not talk about <em>fucking</em> in front of the driver, please!” she scream whispers.</p><p>Villanelle’s laugh fans a fury in her chest. </p><p>“He has a bluetooth in! And works for MI6.”</p><p>“Are you serious right now?” Eve hisses.</p><p>“About fucking? Always.”</p><p>“Oh m- I <em>swear</em> to god-“ Eve wrings her hands in front of her.</p><p>Villanelle throws her palms up in surrender and leans back in her seat just as Eve decides to bite. </p><p>“Alright, alright! I get it,” and mimes zipping her mouth before throwing the key out the window.</p><p>They settle into a silence marked only by the sounds of street traffic and vehicles. The driver taps his thumbs on the steering wheel. She tries and fails to not look at Villanelle crossing and uncrossing her impossibly long legs. </p><p>Eve crosses her arms tight and looks at the back of the seat in front of her. She hopes Villanelle doesn’t see her knees press together. </p><p>Frankly, she’s upset she even needs to ask.</p><p>
  <em>Of course I want to fuck you.</em>
</p><p>But it’s… complicated. </p><p>Villanelle is complicated.</p><p>
  <em>She said we’re the same… </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Are we? </em>
</p><p>The thought curls new and warm around the base of her skull, humming with familiarity. Eve shudders and feels sick for loving how it courses electric down her spine.</p><p>Villanelle’s hot blood flashes on her hands with a blink. Eve feels a stir of arousal low in her hips and presses her knees harder. </p><p>Eve had a life, that’s how she usually won this argument with herself- or whoever she was having an imaginary argument with where she had to defend Villanelle for some reason. That’s what made them different. </p><p>Eve has a job (paid obsession) friends (well not Kenny anymore, but there’s Hugo and Jess and <em>god</em> she misses Elena, and… Villanelle killed Bill, but) a husband (barely, if you can still call it that) and a chicken. </p><p>Eve has never killed anyone, or tried to kill anyone, or castrated anyone. Eve plays bridge, Eve reads the paper!</p><p>They’re different. </p><p>But…</p><p>She isn’t <em>unlike</em> Villanelle… her mind crawls without permission to the man on the tube today. </p><p>
  <em>Christ, was that really today?</em>
</p><p>When she was pushed out of his way her eyes had snapped to him and registered absolutely nothing of value, nothing worth mentioning. She hadn’t been scared by it. Eve wanted to show that man how much nothing he meant, how little he was worth to her by pushing him in front of a train just to see what would happen.</p><p>She stood behind him, held her hand just over where she would push him. The world shrank to her hovering hand.</p><p>Would he die on impact? Or would he be spliced in pieces by the iron rails, screaming in halves or quarters? Would his bones shatter and erupt through his skin with the force?</p><p>How far would his four and a half litres of blood reach?</p><p>Will she step up, past the yellow safety line, close enough to see the gristle and splatter? </p><p>Eve saw him as nothing but a question unanswered and welcomed it, almost slipped effortlessly into it before seeing his eyes and being jostled out of the spell.</p><p>She hadn’t killed that stupid man but she had <em>really,</em> really wanted to. </p><p>Still wants to. </p><p>
  <em>Villanelle kills because she’s told, because she’s paid, not because she wants to.</em>
</p><p>Villanelle huffs and leans forward to tug at the hem of her long gown before gathering it in a fist and pulling it up to expose her bare legs from the knees down. Eve’s throat runs dry at the pale new expanse. </p><p>Villanelle’s hands rest on her knees as she parts them a touch wider, hips tilting toward the center of the car. Her eyes continue to flick with the passing scenery whirring past them. </p><p>Long fingers start to tap and extend, flexing the tendons and muscles in her wrist and forearms. </p><p>Eve watches transfixed as they start to dance across her knees in lazy circles and lines, Villanelle herself swaying to a beat unheard by others. She pushes further up her knee to the top of her thigh, nudging the excess black fabric gathered there. </p><p>Heat lashes between Eve’s legs when Villanelle’s wandering fingers expose the white of her inner thigh. Villanelle lays her palms flat against her knee and drags them up her thighs to push her dress further up to her hips. </p><p>Eve fights to keep her breathing steady. She doesn’t want to blink. Her eyes are fixed on Villanelle’s hands on Villanelle’s skin. </p><p>Villanelle dips a hand under the last of the gown clutched between her legs and the quiet moan she breathes reverberates deafening in Eve’s ears. </p><p>Hazel eyes snap to hers with carnivorous glee and Eve realizes that they had moaned in tandem. The pit in her stomach churns sweetly.</p><p>Villanelle tilts her head, nods and what can Eve do but mirror her, nodding <em>yes</em> as if she has a choice anymore, and watches Villanelle pull the gown up to reveal her hand stroking circles over a matching pair of sheer black panties.</p><p>Eve’s lips part and she’s made more aware of the ruined state of her underwear. Villanelle traces a few more lazy circles before hooking the hem with a finger and toying with the edge.</p><p>Eve’s eyes flick in fear to the driver for as long as she can bear to look away. When she looks back at Villanelle the blonde has her free hand raised, index finger pressed to her plush lips in a <em>shush.</em></p><p>Villanelle flashes a predator’s smile, mouth full of gleaming teeth and pulls the fabric aside for Eve.</p><p>Eve bites her bottom lip to keep from groaning. Iron springs in her mouth and doesn’t care that it makes her hips twitch.</p><p>Villanelle touches herself slowly with gentle fingers, hips bucking and twitching as she draws tighter circles around her clit. </p><p>She circles her entrance and pushes a digit inside of herself, eyes slipping shut and mouth falling open as she draws in and out slowly. She’s dripping wet and Eve will forever be in awe that that’s because of <em>her.</em></p><p>She wants to lean over and nestle her curls in place of Villanelle’s hand, wants to know what she tastes like, what kinds of sounds she can get Villanelle to make with just her mouth. Eve wants to feel her heat in her hands, slip inside to feel her clutch around her fingers and for Villanelle to smear across her cheeks and drip down her chin. </p><p>She’s frozen in place by the glorious display in front of her, watching ravenous as Villanelle’s finger disappears over and over. Villanelle brings her free hand to her clit and sinks her teeth into her lipstick with a barely muffled cry. </p><p>Her thighs start to pull together and Eve watches Villanelle twitch them back open for her. </p><p><em>“Eve,”</em> her name is quiet and breathy on Villanelle’s tongue as she unfolds in front of her. She tenses and stills before she’s rocked by shaking, jaw wrenching wide, she squeezes her eyes tight and it’s the closest Eve has ever felt to divinity. </p><p>Villanelle withdraws the finger inside of her and continues minute circles around her clit, coaxing herself down. Eve catches a glint of wetness where her free hand rests on her dress she watches herself reach out for Villanelle’s wrist. </p><p>Her eyelashes flutter open and she locks eyes with Eve at the tug of her hand. </p><p>Eve is emboldened by the want laid bare in Villanelle’s eyes, want directed toward her, <em>because of her,</em> and brings the tip to her mouth. </p><p>She flicks her tongue experimentally and revels in the taste, probing farther and drawing her deeper in. It’s intoxicating, she’s immediately greedy for more. Villanelle quickens the hand between her legs and watches Eve with black eyes. Her fingers push further into Eve’s open mouth. </p><p>Villanelle refuses to look away, her face screwing with pleasure when Eve sucks them. Eve runs her tongue between her fingers from tip to palm, tonguing the taste clean. </p><p>Pale thighs snap shut with a sudden orgasm that and Eve wants to see that over and over, wants to make Villanelle forget all of the languages she knows. </p><p>She pops her fingers out of her mouth, a twinge low in her gut at the string of spit hanging between her bottom lip and Villanelle’s hand. </p><p>Villanelle pants quietly a few times before straightening her underwear and letting her dress fall back to her ankles.</p><p>Eve misses the skin already and she hadn’t even touched her.</p><p>A sharp few knocks on the partition window make her startle in her seat. The glass window slides to the side.</p><p>“ETA ten minutes,” the driver says without turning his head, and slides it shut again. Eve turns to stare out the window and remembers that they’re here for a job, not to… whatever that was. Whatever’s going on with them. </p><p>They’ve walked through looming tall trees and grass for twenty minutes before she’s sure they’re in the right place. Songbirds chirp and sing in the forest around them and Eve thinks this might be a nice walk if she wasn't on her way to interrogate a killer with another killer. </p><p>
  <em>A killer who she’d just watched come.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And tasted. </em>
</p><p>“Are you sure this is legal?” Villanelle asks when a storage container comes into view, and Eve has to turn around to scoff.</p><p>“What do you care?” she says with more bite than she means.</p><p>
  <em>Why do you care? You kill people, that’s not legal. I should care. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why don’t I care?</em>
</p><p>“I’m just looking out for you, Eve,” Villanelle says. Eve is doesn’t understand the expression on her face. She looks taken aback, hurt that Eve just assumed she wouldn’t.</p><p>Villanelle shakes her head once in punctuation, obviously, and Eve feels anger simmer in her chest.</p><p>
  <em>How can you even say that?</em>
</p><p>“Come on,” Eve turns away from her and continues down the path. </p><p>“Open the door, please,” she says to the armed guard by the door before turning back to Villanelle, “wait out here.”</p><p>Eve ignores the petulant groan she hears Villanelle make at the command and enters the storage locker. The Ghost sits chained in a chair in the center. </p><p>The metal doors creak and scrape closed behind her and she thinks maybe she needs to think about how much time she spends enclosed with violent psychopaths.</p><p>When she takes a few steps forward she can’t ignore how wet she is. </p><p>“You need any water?” Eve tries good cop first. </p><p>The Ghost sneers and shakes her head, “no.” Eve fights the urge to bite her lip.</p><p>“Who ordered the hits on Alistair Peele and his colleagues?” she pushes. The Ghost takes a long inhale and sits silent in her chair.</p><p>“It’ll be easier if you just tell me,” her patience balances on a knife’s edge, “or it’s going to get worse for you.”</p><p>The Ghost tilts her head and looks away from Eve. </p><p>Eve gives her one last chance before turning back and knocking loudly on the metal door. The forest air is clear in her lungs when she steps out. </p><p>Villanelle leans impatient with one hand braced on a tree.</p><p>“Did she say?” she asks and steps away from her support.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Oh well,” Villanelle quips and moves past her toward the open container. Eve’s heartbeat thuds in her ears as her mind is flooded with what Villanelle might do behind those doors. </p><p>“Do you want to watch?” Villanelle’s question rings out in the woods. Eve whirls around to face her.</p><p>Eve shakes her head and it feels like punishment, she can’t. <em>It wouldn’t be right. </em></p><p>Villanelle hums, shrugs before her mouth turns into a wicked smile. </p><p>
  <em>Not like that’s stopped her before.</em>
</p><p>Her gut falls sharply with the bang of the door behind Villanelle. She wants to walk away and shield her ears from whatever sounds Villanelle will beat out of the Ghost, clinging to one of the last strands of denial that she has.</p><p>Even if Villanelle is the one who is violent, it would still be on Eve’s request. She <em>asked</em> for her help with her, there was no mincing words. She hadn’t even needed to explain what to do, Villanelle had just <em>known</em> she needed her to get the information at any cost. </p><p>
  <em>Villanelle was the one to point out this was illegal, for fuck’s sake. </em>
</p><p>Eve walks faster, her breathing getting away from her in big panicked breaths. </p><p>She braces her hands on a tree and closes her eyes, tries to breathe deeply and keep the hysteric tears from spilling out of her. She stares at the sunlight streaming through the canopy and thinks,</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck is my life coming to?</em>
</p><p>Eve finds her way back to the container over the forty minutes she spends waiting for Villanelle to finish… interrogating the Ghost. She’s not leaning against it to strain for the sounds of suffering.</p><p>The door creaks open again and Eve pushes off of the container as Villanelle strides to meet her.</p><p>
  <em>Finally.</em>
</p><p>“Who was it?” she needs to know. Villanelle slows.</p><p>“Who do you think it was?”</p><p>“The Twelve?” </p><p>“No,” she pauses before smiling like it’s a great punchline, “it was his son! Classic,” and smiles to herself.</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p><em>“Aaron</em> Peele?” Eve enunciates.</p><p>“I know!”</p><p>“A-are you sure? He already owns the company, why would he-”</p><p>“It’s not the company he’s selling, it’s a weapon,” she sounds almost bored by this news. Eve’s head spins.</p><p>“A <em>weapon?”</em></p><p>“It’s <em>always</em> a weapon; the Twelve want to buy it, everyone wants to buy it.”</p><p>Eve turns around and takes a few steps back toward the container, leaning back on it again. </p><p>“Great,” she says bitterly. That doesn’t help wrap this up. That doesn't get this over and done with. This makes things infinitely more complicated and fucked up and drawn out.</p><p>“I…got you what you wanted, a thank you would be nice,” Villanelle’s tone is expectant of praise and eager with bloodlust. Eve hears leaves rustle in the wake of her gown. She turns her head and finds Villanelle waiting.</p><p>“Thank you,” she hears herself say hollowly, and turns away. </p><p>“That wasn’t a real thank you,” it’s dark and brimming with anger. </p><p>An exhale of a laugh, the inhale before a heavy sentence,“you are just take, take, take-”</p><p>“What did you do to her?” Eve interrupts before she can stop herself. </p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” she says, smooth as glass and it makes Eve furious because she needs to know, she’ll go the rest of her life needing to know what happened in that storage container and wishing she didn’t.</p><p><em>“What did you do,”</em> she growls.</p><p>Villanelle tilts her chin up with her answer, “nothing you didn’t ask me to.” It cuts like it isn’t a truth she already knew. </p><p>She needs to see for herself. </p><p>Eve pushes past Villanelle and opens the container, climbs back inside. The Ghost is slumped in her chair, hair messed and handcuffs glimmering on the concrete floor. </p><p>She’s not moving. </p><p>Eve eyes the discarded restraints and steps over them with a swallow. She peers at the Ghost for signs of life or death. Eve bends at the waist and watches her face as she pokes her knee. </p><p>The Ghost raises her head to look at Eve, tear tracks streaming down her anguished face.</p><p>“Monster,” her voice breaks around the word. </p><p>A sickening mix of pride and fear blooms in Eve’s chest. She doesn’t need to ask who.</p><p>Villanelle’s hands had acted as an extension of her own, doing what she didn’t have the courage for.</p><p>Eve turns to leave the Ghost, leave the container and find Villanelle.</p><p>
  <em>Yet.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. playing pretend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so this is rapidly turning into something much larger than intended</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Villanelle, I-”</p><p>Eve finds two surprised guards instead of the blonde she was expecting. She takes a step forward and peers around the corner of the storage container to see nothing but trees.</p><p>“Oh… where did she go?”</p><p>“Uh, that way ma’am,” he points in the direction of thick woods.</p><p>“Great, thanks,” she huffs and starts trudging through grass. </p><p>
  <em>What the fuck is she doing, running off? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We aren’t done now that we have the info, we have to go in and report it, calculate what the next move is, where they're going now that it’s Aaron fucking Peele?!</em>
</p><p>Eve scans the trees in front of her, seeing no sight of Villanelle. She cranes her head left and right to check between the trees to no avail. The edge of her coat snags on burrs as she wades into deeper foliage.</p><p>
  <em>Where does she even think she’s going? We’re in the middle of a forest- what, does she have some secret contact in here?</em>
</p><p>“Villanelle!” she calls out.</p><p>
  <em>Is she seriously going to just disappear without saying-</em>
</p><p>“Eve?”</p><p>She whips her head round at the sound. Nothing but trees and thicket.</p><p>“Villanelle?” she fights a bush to walk forward a step. Her footsteps are loud with the snapping of branches and rustling leaves but the silence that follows feels louder. </p><p>Eve waits for a beat before noisily pushing forward again.</p><p>“Villanelle!” her voice echoes around her. She wonders if the guards would hear her scream or not. </p><p>“Eve,” her name rasps low in her ear.</p><p>“Jesus!” Eve jumps back and slams her hand to her chest. Her heart thuds beneath her palm. </p><p>“No, it’s <em>Villanelle,”</em> she corrects.</p><p>“Villanelle, I-“</p><p>“There you go.”</p><p>“Oh come on- Villanel-”</p><p><em>“What?”</em> she spits, and Eve sees hurt in her eyes. Villanelle straightens to lean her weight on her back foot and crosses her arms in front of her. </p><p><em>“What,</em> Eve? What would you like me to do now, hm?”</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“Do you want me to <em>kill</em> someone for you?”</p><p>“Wh- of course not!”</p><p>“Then <em>what!”</em> she shouts.</p><p>Eve fumbles for answers and it only serves to make Villanelle laugh cruelly.</p><p>“You don’t even know, do you? You have no idea what you want or what you’re doing,”</p><p>“No! I do, I, I want…”</p><p>
  <em>I want you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Every second of every day.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want to watch you touch me. I want you to watch me touch you. I want to watch you fuck me. I want to be between your legs and in your arms and I want to kiss your perfect mouth until I can’t breathe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re what keeps me up at odd hours, picking and twisting my skin to feel something, always running on a loop in the background of my brain. This sweet, humming heat with a pulse.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want to watch you hurt people, I want to see you with blood smeared down your chest. I want to watch you kill and see what your face looks like the second you watch someone die. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do your eyes light up? Do you smile? When you come hard, are you as loud as I hope?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want you so much it scares me because you’re… you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You and all your you-ness pushed me the closest I’ve ever gotten to ending a human life. My hands burn every day with the heat of your blood. I’ll never forget how it felt to sink in to the hilt of the blade, watch the metal slip into nothing and leave the shaking handle in my hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you have any idea what it means to change how someone sees life and death? You take it in exchange for luxury and power.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You made me look like an idiot pounding down the wrong door at that hotel. I screamed, threw a fit when you weren’t there. I know you were there, I felt it. Did you hear me?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I almost pushed that man. Because of you. For you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re why I made a fucking fool out of myself at Niko’s work thing. You’re the reason he looks at me with fear, I used to have someone that loved me and you took that from me.</em>
</p><p>Eve’s heart sinks at the thought of Niko, who didn’t deserve any of what she’d dragged into his life, their life, whose only real crime was simply being too soft and sweet. </p><p>
  <em>You… took my best friend from me.</em>
</p><p>Eve swallows thickly.</p><p>
  <em>Do I want to be the same as you?</em>
</p><p>She used to like soft things. It felt almost soft when Villanelle had tugged on her hand, but she’d pushed it down.</p><p>She <em>did</em> want Villanelle. More than anything.</p><p>But Eve wanted to hurt people, <em>kill</em> people and recognizing her wants for what they were made her fucking terrified.</p><p>She could learn to like soft things again. </p><p>Maybe it wasn’t too late.</p><p>“I- I can’t do- this, Villanelle.”</p><p>Eve’s heart winces. The long grass surrounding them rustles gently. Villanelle stands immobile, the thin material of her dress breezing around her hips and legs.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“We… I’m married,” her voice falters over the word, it’s a cop-out on a technicality and she knows it, they both do. </p><p>Villanelle ponders and tilts her head in contemplation. </p><p>“Soo, you were married when I fucked you in your kitchen, then.”</p><p>Eve casts her eyes down at her feet, embarrassment and shame gathering in her throat upon hearing the words out in the open. They land too loud in the brush. </p><p>“Yes, b-”</p><p>“And in the car too?” Villanelle continues with a step toward her, “when I touched myself for you?” she feels a blush erupt hot on her neck and chest, fingers twitching at her side. </p><p>
  <em>Do you want to watch?</em>
</p><p>Eve nods slowly. </p><p>Villanelle is in front of her, looming like the tall trees surrounding them. She notices the smudged part of her lipstick again and betrays herself by looking at it for too long. Her red lip quirks where she stares.</p><p>Villanelle takes another step forward and makes Eve stumble to stay upright. She takes another and then another and Eve is backed against a tree, gasps when her shoulder blade hits it roughly. </p><p>Villanelle brackets her head with her hands, trapping her between her and the pine at her back. Eve’s curls snag and pinch on the bark at the back of her neck and she does nothing to get away. </p><p>“How about when you had my hand in your mouth, moaning at the taste of my cunt, hm? Were you married then? Because that doesn’t sound like something <em>a married woman</em> would do.”</p><p><em>“Fuck you,”</em> Eve spits. <em>How dare you dig into my fresh wound.</em></p><p>“Oh, wouldn’t you just <em>love</em> that?”</p><p>Eve pushes her, pent fury snapping like an elastic band in her arms because she <em>would</em> and it’s driving her to the brink of insanity. </p><p>Villanelle’s eyes widen and smoulder with the impact, swaying back before towering over Eve. She grits her teeth and pushes again.</p><p>Eve shoves as hard as she can, <em>why aren’t you fighting back? </em></p><p>She shoves Villanelle off of her, a whine of tears building in her ribs and she beats her chest with tight fists.</p><p><em>“Fuck you!”</em> she cries.</p><p>“Eve,” Villanelle grabs her wrists with a vice grip.</p><p>Eve tries to rip her hands from Villanelle’s searing touch, skin burning with heat as she twists her arms in every which way.</p><p>“You <em>can’t do this,</em> Eve?” Villanelle sings her words back to her and Eve thrashes to free herself. Villanelle overpowers her to pull her wrists down in front of her, pulls her close against her chest. </p><p><em>“Let me go,”</em> Eve snarls through teeth and spit.</p><p>
  <em>I can’t just cut all the strings that keep me up, cross the lines we’ve been toeing, that I’ve already crossed, wanting doesn’t mean following- I can’t, I want to but I can’t-</em>
</p><p>“You already have!” Villanelle shouts</p><p>“No,” it can’t be true. She’s not like her, she’s not, she’s-</p><p><em>“Yes.</em> You’ve alread-”</p><p><em>“No!”</em> Eve’s voice is hoarse, <em>“I can’t be like you!”</em></p><p>A bird startles and beats its wings in escape before the forest grows quiet again. The tight grip softens around her wrists and Eve snatches her hands back, rubbing at newly sore skin. Villanelle works her jaw and looks at the sky.</p><p>She regrets the words the instant she sees their impact writ on Villanelle’s features.</p><p>“Vil-”</p><p>“Fine,” she cuts.</p><p>“I, ca-”</p><p><em>“Fine,</em> you want to play pretend?” Villanelle bites before starting to walk past her and back toward the container, “Go, be married. Fuck your stupid husband.” </p><p>Villanelle’s gown swells as she glides away. Eve’s chest turns hollow and she hurries to follow her, hand outstretched with apology. </p><p>Her fingertips graze her gown- Villanelle whirls around with years of training and catches her hand, twisting her arm behind her back in a millisecond. </p><p>Eve yelps as Villanelle twists her arm harder, the muscles in her shoulder straining in pain. </p><p>Her face draws closer and closer, small puffs of air landing sweetly on Eve’s lips. She bends up to try and meet her, desperate to taste her mouth again.</p><p>“Try not to think of me,” the whisper brushes her mouth. Eve’s heart beats erratic.</p><p>And then she’s gone.</p><p>Eve waits until she can’t hear her footsteps breaking ground before she follows.</p><p>Once she’s home, she skims the article Carolyn sent her twice before she absorbs the first sentence. A piece about Aaron Peele selling his company’s data. </p><p>
  <em>This fucking twat, It was him the whole time.</em>
</p><p>She tries again, reading intently from the beginning but losing focus a few sentences in, her mind prowling up against the bars of its new cage.</p><p>
  <em>She looked so… hurt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I made the right choice…?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I chose my husband and job over sex with a murdering twenty-something. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Should I feel better? Shouldn’t I just know?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why does it feel like I don’t?</em>
</p><p>A crash and a crack of thunder pulls her attention to the backyard. She eyes the window and rises out of her seat to get a better look. She parts the blinds with two fingers and catches a hunched figure ambling through their shrubbery.</p><p>Eve hates the mix of panic and excitement that beats frantic in her ribs. She peeks around the corner and looks out the patio doors, remembering that they aren’t exactly on great terms. Fucking and then rejecting a psychopath hired to help solve crimes will do that to a relationship.</p><p>
  <em>Not a relationship. </em>
</p><p>Fear laps cooly at her belly and for a moment she thinks of how broken the Ghost looked after being with Villanelle. Months of bloody crime scene photos flash behind her eyes and Eve shrinks at the new proximity between the two of them.</p><p>She needs to apologize, will Villanelle let her? She’s already somehow continued to live after stabbing her, surely this won’t be the final straw.</p><p>Her heart hammers for an instant when the figure comes into view, and stirs with annoyance when she realizes who isn’t opening the door. </p><p>“Nik- oh my god, what are you doing out there!” she gestures out to the pouring rain.</p><p>Niko’s hair is matted down to his head, jacket and jeans thoroughly soaked. His moustache twitches as his mouth opens with urgency. </p><p>“She came to see me,” he presses his lips together to steady himself before continuing, “she told me what you did.”</p><p>Eve loses all sense of direction. Lungs stutter when she tries to breathe. </p><p>
  <em>Did she tell you that I hired her to kill me and torture a suspect? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or that I watched her fuck herself and just barely stopped myself from eating her out in the backseat of an MI6 cruiser?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did she tell you she made me scream right here, in our kitchen?</em>
</p><p>“I know you stabbed her,” Niko’s voice grovels low at the end of his words.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>She scrambles in fear for a different kind of damage control. </p><p>“You can’t believe her, she’s a <em>liar,”</em> Eve lies and Niko takes a broad step toward her. He pushes with a force she’s never seen in him before. Her pulse thuds in her ears.</p><p>“I know,” he takes a few more to cross the room, “but I believe her.”</p><p>Eve steps backwards, padding back into the kitchen and near the hall. Niko steps up onto the stair and follows her. She’s never been more afraid of him, has never <em>been</em> afraid of him. </p><p>“I can explain,” she starts, but she can’t, how can she begin to explain- her mouth hangs open with nothing to offer, and Niko is looking at her as if she’s already stabbed him too, like he wants to hurt her for doing this to them.</p><p>“Well?” he demands, and grabs her by the upper arms to shove her against the wall. He tightens his grip and pulls her up to make her rise up onto her toes. His hands are crushing and huge around her shoulders.</p><p>“Niko!” she squeaks when he pushes closer and her hand jumps to fist in his shirtsleeve.</p><p>
  <em>Has he always been this strong?</em>
</p><p>“Do you like it?” he leans in, “Do you like, all of this?”</p><p>His breath is hot on her face and she’s acutely aware of her bones pinned to the wall. Embarrassed heat curls between her legs.</p><p>“Does it <em>excite</em> you?”</p><p>Eve sways magnetized and hopes her face isn’t as revealing as it feels. She can’t tell if she's meant to play along, if she’ll be punished or rewarded for saying yes.</p><p>She doesn't even know which she wants.</p><p>He shakes her, pulling her back.</p><p>“What do you want from me Eve-” he sounds desperate and lost and it kills her that it’s because of her, “Do you want me to love you, or do you want me to frighten you?”</p><p>
  <em>Why can’t I have both?</em>
</p><p>“I don’t know,” she whispers instead.</p><p>Niko’s face darkens and he tilts his chin up to look at Eve through downcast eyes. </p><p>He pushes her shoulder and Eve slides down the wall, a wave of calm washing over her from head to toe. She keeps eye contact with him as she sinks to her knees, holding his hand to the side of her face.</p><p>
  <em>I want both.</em>
</p><p>“Now go upstairs,” Niko takes his hand back. </p><p>Eve turns and crawls on her hands and knees to the stairs. She shivers while climbing them, wetness gliding with every movement of her thighs. </p><p>Niko thrusts furiously hard, rocking their marital bed with might. She’s sure there will be bruises scattered across her skin from the amount of manhandling he’s doing and clenches around him as he smacks the side of her ass again. He grunts loudly and often, the room full of noise.</p><p>Eve clutches at his back as he drives into her, trying to pull him in at a different angle. It’s hard and fast and better than it’s ever been, she’s wanted this <em>so</em> badly, wanted him to let loose and take it out on her for years but it still doesn’t feel like nearly enough.</p><p>She grunts and tries to rock her hips back to fully meet his thrusts, screws her eyes shut with the effort. </p><p>Smirking red lips weave their way into her consciousness and she tries to bat them away.</p><p>Before it had been deniable- just a fantasy based on aesthetics. Innocent, even. Who <em>doesn’t</em> think of other people sometimes?</p><p>But now, she has a point of reference and it’s infuriating to no end because now she <em>knows</em> just how good Villanelle feels inside of her. Eve remembers the thrill of Villanelle’s fingers pulsing through her heat for the first time and moans.</p><p>She wrenches her eyes open to stare at Niko, take in all of his body and features and tries to be present with him. Her eyes fall on his stubbled face, the tuft of hair on his chest gleaning with sweat as he fucks her with more might than she’s seen in over a decade. </p><p>Pale calves flash across the inside of her eyes and she clenches again, making Niko grunt. </p><p>Eve remembers long legs splayed open.</p><p>Villanelle’s delightfully long fingers inside of her, how she’d watched those same fingers disappear over and over into of Villanelle.  She’d swirled her tongue around them and tries to conjure the taste in her mouth.</p><p>Eve surges to meet Niko with a groan every time his hips slam into hers. He thunders a yell with each thrust. </p><p>She wishes they weren’t in missionary.</p><p>
  <em>Blonde hair, sheer black panties. </em>
</p><p>Her mind conjures the taste of lipstick when she bites her bottom lip.</p><p>She wishes her mouth still tasted like Villanelle. Eve’s breathing hitches erratically and her thighs start to buzz.</p><p>
  <em>Villanelle’s pussy spread on display, just for her.</em>
</p><p>A white-hot orgasm folds her in two and forces her name out of her throat. She’s lost in the pleasure before horror spikes her chest and her eyes fly open to see if Niko heard through his own shouts.</p><p>With a few last hard groans, he shudders atop her. She wraps her arms around him as he pulls out to settle down onto her and Eve tries not to think of how it would feel to hold a smaller waist.</p><p>She makes coffee early the next morning filled with a new spring in her step.</p><p>
  <em>We had sex! Fantastic sex. The best sex of our marriage, if I’m being honest. Niko certainly seemed to enjoy it. He knew I stabbed Villanelle and then we had sex! He still wants me even though he knows.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s not too late.</em>
</p><p>The kitchen floorboards creak with Niko’s arrival while she pours. He stands timid in the doorway, one hand in a pocket. Eve grins and chuckles. </p><p>“This feels like a one night stand,” she says bashfully.</p><p>“Yeah,” he’s quiet. She takes a mug in each hand.</p><p>“Oh- look, hey…” Eve jokes and crosses the kitchen in bare feet, “I’m just really not looking for a relationship right now?” and hands him one.</p><p>“Last night-” </p><p>“Was <em>amazing,”</em> she finishes for him and threads her fingers into his hair. She tries to pull him in for a kiss but he dodges out of her embrace. </p><p>He clears his throat and takes a step away from her. </p><p>“What?” she asks softly.</p><p>Niko walks to the other end of the kitchen counter before turning around and staring into his mug.</p><p>“I was up all night trying to work out why I felt so, unbelievably shitty, and sad,” his voice crackles around the edges. </p><p>Eve knits her eyebrows together, tilts her head forward at him. She takes a step closer and sets her coffee on the counter.</p><p>“Wh… what do you mean? Why did you- I thought you enjoyed it?”</p><p>“I did. I loved it,” the words look sour in his mouth.</p><p>“So then…?” </p><p>
  <em>So… what?</em>
</p><p>“What’s going on?” Eve asks gently. </p><p>“I asked you… when you got back from Paris, I wanted to talk to you.”</p><p>
  <em>Didn’t we just fuck about this?</em>
</p><p>“You wouldn’t have understood,” Eve shakes her head, she barely understood.</p><p>“You’re wrong,” he replies, and Eve shakes her head again, “No I’m not- ”</p><p>He throws his hands out and says, “well, I guess we’ll never know!”</p><p>She wishes it hurt less to watch him shrug in defeat. He was such a good man, where had she lost sight of that? </p><p>“I gotta go,” he tears his eyes from hers and walks toward the front door and it dawns on Eve that maybe Niko would understand if she let him try. She reaches out for his arm as he passes her before he can slip further out of her reach</p><p>All this time when she thought he wasn’t enough for her, she didn’t think that maybe she was getting to be too much for him.</p><p>“Wait-,” <em>please, don’t go. I forgot how much you mean to me.</em></p><p>Niko recoils at her touch and whips his arm from her grasp.</p><p>“Don’t!… ask me to stay. I can’t do this anymore.”</p><p>The air is drawn from her lungs and she can’t breathe, this isn’t happening, he’s <em>not</em> leaving her. </p><p>He would never leave her.</p><p>“Niko <em>please,</em> let’s… talk-” he scoffs at her and turns his head to laugh before meeting her eyes, “Don’t leave me alone!” she cries out. <em>You’re all I have left!</em></p><p>“Well you’re not alone!” he yells, it stings when he adds <em>“are</em> you?” and Eve knows. </p><p>
  <em>He heard. </em>
</p><p>Her response lay dead on her tongue as the lock clicks shut.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>uh yeah so let me know if you're enjoying this ride into what I assume Eve's consciousness is screaming at her.</p><p>also because I can I drew a scene from the first chapter so if you want to see that it's over at villanevehaus on tungl.hell ok thanks for reading xox</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. nothing else compares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>DEFINITELY not jealous</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her meeting with Carolyn was… interesting, to say the least. She tried not to think of Niko’s words bouncing in her skull as she watched Aaron Peele eviscerate the undercover journalist.</p><p>The following brainstorm with Hugo and Jess had them bouncing back and forth, scheming ways to possibly get close to a man with no drive for human companionship and a fetish for exposure surveillance. </p><p>“He doesn’t have any friends, he’s never had a girlfriend, or b<em>oyfriend</em>- or anatomically correct sex robot,” Hugo spun in his chair to toss a cheeky smile at Jess. She’d wrinkled her features.</p><p>“He’s paranoid,” he swivelled back to face her, “it’s not like someone can swan in in a tight dress.”</p><p>“Can’t they?” Jess looked Eve up and down. She blustered at the notion of herself <em>swanning</em> anywhere, much less for this prick.</p><p>Hugo turned to look too and she felt a blush at her shirt collar.</p><p>“Well it can’t be <em>me,</em> I’ve already met him!”</p><p>“There's got to be someone…” Jess trailed off, and another brilliantly stupid idea had dropped into Eve’s lap.</p><p>“Tell Carolyn it was your idea,” she tries to cover as they approach her home. Jess barely turns her head to look at her, “Fine,” and rings the bell. </p><p>Jess leans back and cradles the bottom of her belly as they wait and Eve wonders how it must feel to carry a life like that. She and Niko hadn't felt the need for kids; her job was intense and he worked with kids five days a week. The horrors of childbirth had further scared her off, too many stories of ripping and bleeding and shitting for over twenty hours.</p><p>Still, she thought about it when she saw Jess rub her bump in round circles at her desk, absently while she read or filled out paperwork. Her hand always looked magnetized to it. Eve wonders if she ever feels her skin move beneath her hands with the wriggling and writhing of another life.</p><p>She pinches herself to keep from reaching out and covering Jess’s hand with her own.</p><p>Konstantin, of all people, opens Carolyn’s door. His grey eyebrows shoot up with surprise and he opens his big mouth with words not fully formed and she thinks,<em> is this a fucking joke?</em></p><p>Jess shifts her weight beside her.</p><p>“So, Carolyn’s forgiven you then?” Eve was going mad with all the back and forths of the past two days.</p><p>“We have forgiven each other,” he chooses his words carefully and looks between the two of them. Eve blinks a few times and nods, absorbing the shift. </p><p>“Have you come here to yell at me?” Konstantin’s accent lilts with a tease.</p><p>“For selling me out and skipping town with Villanelle?” she looks at Jess who looks back deadpan. </p><p><em>“No,</em> not at all. I’ve forgotten all about it. <em>Totally</em> fine.” </p><p>Konstantin winces, “…you’re not yelling, but it feels like you’re yelling.”</p><p>A plastic smile takes shape on her face and she turns to Jess again. Eve flares her eyes and Jess gets the hint to pose her idea.</p><p>“We want to make you and Villanelle an offer. Which doesn’t involve killing someone.”</p><p>He bounces his bushy eyebrows and opens the door further.</p><p>An hour later Eve is clutching a binder to her chest, standing outside the door that matches the address he’d scribbled for her. The numbers on the brick burn the back of her eyes over and over again. She’s been standing on the street for ten minutes.</p><p>Eve steps to the buzzer and punches in the appropriate code. The dial tone rings and she searches for the ‘end’ button before it clicks with connection.</p><p>“Yes?” Villanelle crackles through the box.</p><p>“Let me in.”</p><p>“Who is this?” Eve rolls her eyes.</p><p>“It’s me- I know Konstantin called you.”</p><p>“Sorry, I don’t know a ‘me,’ have a nice day!”</p><p>“Oh for fuck’s- it’s <em>Eve!”</em></p><p>The line is silent for longer than she can stand. Just as she thinks about redialing the number it crackles to life again.</p><p>“One moment.”</p><p>Eve steps back on the pavement and tightens her arms around her binder. The metal door swings open with a screech.</p><p>“Hii, partner!” Villanelle drawls with an annoying smile. She’s wearing a striped suit jacket and low cut white t-shirt that Eve definitely doesn’t want to peel off of her. She holds the door open wide and lowers her voice, “welcome to my new home.”</p><p>It’s stylish. Not as ostentatious as her Paris apartment, but the modern wood interior compliments her surprisingly well. There’s a bed in the center of the main room in an unmissable signal of priorities. Villanelle sits on it patiently while she waits for Eve to gather herself.</p><p>She shrugs off her coat, pulls her sleeves off her arms.</p><p>“How is it going with Niko?” </p><p>Her throat twitches and she stills while folding her coat. The tendons in the back of her hand jump. </p><p>“None of your business,” she replies curtly and faces her.</p><p>“So you want me not to kill someone…” Villanelle narrows her eyes, “You do know what I do, right?” </p><p>
  <em>I know what you do. I’ve seen reports, pictures- corpses. You’ve done it to my friends and colleagues, we’ve been over this.</em>
</p><p>“This is harder,” Eve points to her binder, “a challenge.”</p><p>Villanelle whines and turns her head, “Ugh. I don’t like to be challenged.”</p><p>“Do you want me to find someone els-”</p><p><em>“No!”</em> the quick response rings in the room for a second.</p><p>“Good. So, Aaron Peele,” she walks toward Villanelle and starts to read from the binder, “Aaron doesn’t like people. The only relationship he has is with his sister Amber. So, we use her to get to him. She’s going to AA meetings in London.”</p><p>Villanelle’s eyes are trained on hers with rapt attention. Eve puffs her chest with confidence- she’s proud of this plan, no matter how convoluted.</p><p>“Clever,” Villanelle says, and rocks back on her seat to stand up, “so…”</p><p>“Who do you want?” she raises her hands to waist height with the question and adjusts her suit jacket.</p><p>
  <em>Loaded question.</em>
</p><p>Features shift and click into a mask of timid fear, eyes glassing with tears in seconds.</p><p>“Gap year tragedy who-” her voice hitches with tears and Eve’s heart thuds for this frightened new soul, “who fell in love with her coke dealer?”</p><p>The flighty posh accent that flits from her mouth takes Eve aback. If her eyes weren’t wide open she’d think to check for a third person in the room.</p><p>“Ah…” the mask slips off and Villanelle stands in front of her again. She laughs softly, walking closer to Eve’s side while she chooses another.</p><p>Her posture sags forward and Eve can only follow with her eyes when she adopts an Australian twang, “Sunscreen heiress from Sydney, who has her own like, super successful bikini brand…?”</p><p>
  <em>Who are you?</em>
</p><p>She watches the sunscreen heiress play coy with the buttons of her jacket. Eve closes the binder without realizing.</p><p>“No?” Russian, her real accent. <em>Villanelle</em>.</p><p>Eve swallows.</p><p>Villanelle sighs and puts her hands in her pockets, “I know,” she stage whispers and flashes the whites of her eyes. She inhales and with the exhale changes form yet again, this time into a nasally American. Her shoulders droop and she’s made effortlessly detached.</p><p>“She’s just arrived from New York after one too many nights on the wrong side of the bridge, and she has a really, really, <em>really</em> annoying accent.”</p><p>Eve is floored. And embarrassed that she’s a little turned on by Villanelle’s apparent ability to shapeshift. She tries to hide her awe.</p><p>“I <em>like</em> her accent, what’s her name?” she asks.</p><p>The American in front of her stands in cool indifference, “Billie.”</p><p>Eve stares at Billie, trying to find the seam where she ends and Villanelle begins. She wants to tug at the thread and unravel all the people tangled up inside, wonders if Oksana is lost deep in there too.</p><p>She doesn't find it.</p><p>“Billie,” she tries the name in her mouth and likes the way her tongue flicks with it.</p><p>“Well,” Eve sighs, “lets go meet Carolyn, Billie.”</p><p>The car ride there is filled with glances she shouldn’t be stealing and thoughts she shouldn't be having.</p><p>It’s weird how easy it feels to be in the same room with all three of them. Admittedly, the actual weirdest part about what was happening right now was that Villanelle seemed to suddenly not give two shits about her.</p><p>Villanelle sits on the tabletop with knees spread wide and pays absolute attention to Carolyn. She hasn’t so much as looked at her since finding Carolyn’s perched figure poised neatly in wait. Her face looks deep in study and something else Eve isn’t keen to label.</p><p>Eve watches her eyes rake up and down the front of her turtleneck. Her breath stalls when Villanelle’s eyes flick to finally meet hers, quirking an eyebrow as if saying,<em> Are you seeing this?</em></p><p>She ignores whatever is flaring her chest and tries to pay attention to the safety measures instead of Villanelle’s hungry eyes. Moscow rules, top secret, utter importance. </p><p>“So… no breaking cover, not even for a second,” Carolyn finishes. Eve nods solemnly,<em> I can do that. I can do this. </em></p><p>“You’re the <em>real</em> boss, aren’t you?” Eve blinks her eyes open wide once and wonders for the first time if she’s just always like this with women twice her age.</p><p>Her chest flares again.</p><p>“Villanell-” Eve warns her.</p><p><em>“Eve!”</em> Villanelle interrupts, turning to look at her in bewilderment, “Don’t be disrespectful. Please, Carolyn,” and nods politely for a response. She hates how much care Carolyn’s name is handled with in her mouth,.</p><p>
  <em>Could you stop making goo-goo eyes at my boss, maybe?<br/></em>
</p><p>“Yes. I am,” Carolyn finally answers her, and a satisfied grin spreads comfortable on Villanelle’s face. The sound of a door creaking open draws Carolyn’s attention to the nearing quartermaster and she introduces the three of them. He places a case on the table in front of them and flicks the clasps open.</p><p>“Do I get a watch with a laser in it?”</p><p>Eve thinks about strangling her. The quartermaster takes in a breath and opens the case.</p><p>“I’ve been doing this for seventeen years now, do you know how often these jokes get made?”</p><p>“A lot?”</p><p>“Never. Field agents approach their work with the solemnity it warrants.”</p><p>Eve steps closer to Villanelle’s side to get a better look in the case- and to gloat, a little. He points to various devices and explains their function to the pair and Eve can’t help being grateful for the tech that MI6 has locked in secret storage. She bends to get a closer look, reaching excitedly to pick up the tiny microphone.</p><p>“That is so cool! That is-”</p><p>Villanelle slaps her hand away, “Eve!” and stares at her with a mouth hanging open in shock, gawks in disbelief at the quartermaster.</p><p>“What-” Eve takes her hand back to look between the two of them.</p><p>“Professional,” Villanelle scolds, and Eve has to bite her tongue from snipping when the blonde adds a sincere “I’m sorry,” quietly to the specialist.</p><p>
  <em>Me?! Be professional?! You’re the one belittling this guys career and eyefucking our boss!</em>
</p><p>She’s nothing but relieved to get away from her when Jess when proposes popping to the bakery down the road for lunch. She checks her phone again while waiting for the server to ring up Jess's takeout.</p><p>“Y’okay, mate?” Jess asks, and gestures to her phone in her hand, “Niko stuff?”</p><p>“Oh, don- it’ll pass, he’ll come around,” Eve tries to believe her words and pockets the device.</p><p>“Nothing a bj and a compliment won't fix, in my experience,” Jess says on her way out, “See you back at the office.”</p><p>
  <em>If you only knew…</em>
</p><p>She sits at a table and pulls her phone out again to stare at her wall of blue messages.</p><p>Eve - 9:54 <br/> Hey. I don’t know what happened this morning.</p><p>Eve - 10:19<br/> Can we just talk?</p><p>Eve - 10: 34<br/> Please give me a call.</p><p>Eve - 11:46<br/> Can you answer so I know you’re ok?</p><p>Eve - 1:12 <br/> I’m sorry.</p><p>She types out another but can’t think of anything she hasn’t tried to say already. The chair in front of her scrapes across the floor with a groan and she pulls her eyes from the device.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” she asks exasperated as Villanelle drops into the seat across from her.</p><p>“I don't think a bj will help.” </p><p>Eve shoves her phone in her pocket.</p><p>“Don’t,” she bristles and looks away from her. <em>Now you want to talk? Fine. You don’t get to talk about him. </em></p><p>“He’s too <em>nice</em>,” Villanelle leans forward on her elbows, flicks her eyes up and down Eve’s face, “he’s too normal for you, you know that.”</p><p>“Stop it,” she warns. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Becaus-” Villanelle plucks a grape from her fruit cup and Eve is going to reach across the table and her right here in this bakery.</p><p>Villanelle’s eyes dare her with a challenge as she pops the grape into her mouth. Eve exhales sharply through her nose and pointedly avoids looking at her pink lips.</p><p>“Because you will <em>never</em> understand how much <em>harder</em> it is to be nice, and normal, and decent than it is to be like <em>you</em>,” last word dripping with venom.</p><p>“Like <em>us</em>, you mean,” Villanelle crushes the fruit in the back of her mouth, doesn’t look away when she tilts her head. Her gold pendant swings heavy on its chain between her breasts.</p><p>Eve leans back in her seat and away from the truth. </p><p>Villanelle plucks another grape and it bursts when she bites into it with a smirk. </p><p>“So, what now, where are we going?”</p><p><em>“We</em> are not going anywhere- <em>you</em> are going to AA tomorrow morning and<em> I</em> will be listening in from the café across the street. Were you listening at all when Carolyn was speaking just now, or just staring?”</p><p>It's out of her mouth before she realizes the implication being cast. Villanelle’s eyebrows shoot up at the sudden accusation. She chews her fruit and gives Eve a playful glare. </p><p><em>“Staring</em>, eh?”</p><p>“Don’t try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”</p><p>“Mm, I <em>think</em> I do… but then again, that’s no fun, so…” Villanelle scrunches her nose and pretends to be wildly offended, “What are you talking about, Eve?”</p><p>“I’m talking abou-” a few heads turn in her periphery and Eve lowers her voice, “I’m talking about how you were practically... <em>ogling</em> Carolyn earlier.”</p><p>“Carolyn is an incredibly sexy woman, can you blame me?” Villanelle puffs air out her cheeks and lolls her head back on her shoulders, “the things she could do…”</p><p>“She’s like, sixty years old!”</p><p>“And that’s supposed to turn me off because…?”</p><p>Eve pokes at her potatoes without an answer that doesn’t boil down to <em>because she’s not me.</em> Villanelle grins. </p><p>“Well, she definitely noticed,” Eve grumbles.</p><p>“Good- that’s kind of the point of staring.”</p><p>Eve impales a strawberry with force, fork scratching loud at the bottom of the cup.</p><p>“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were jealous, Eve.”</p><p>“Wh- I am <em>not</em> jealous!”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“No!” she hisses, “I am not <em>jealous</em> of Carolyn-”</p><p>“She’s not married, you know?” Villanelle tilts her chin down. </p><p>Eve meets her eyes and leaves the bait dangling in front of her.</p><p>She stabs her food with her fork and eats a few bites. Villanelle is more agile with her fingers than Eve is with the utensil and she fails more than once to guard her fruit from disappearing.</p><p>Her curiosity gets away from her.</p><p>“Why do you- people… not your age?”</p><p>A beat of silence. She chances a brave look up and finds Villanelle with an eyebrow quirked nearly to her hairline, sparks flaring bright in hazel eyes.</p><p>“Why would I limit myself to ‘people my age’ when older women are so much more…” she looks at the ceiling, ponders before settling carefully on the perfect adjective <em>“delicious.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Yeah, definitely shouldn’t have asked.</em>
</p><p>Something bumps her knee under the table.</p><p>“Don’t get me wrong, Eve- I love girls. Watching them figure out how to respond to me…” another bump “girls <em>like</em> me, they want me to like them. She wants to try what I’m offering but doesn’t know how to lead so she lets me. Maybe she thinks she knows who I am, or she makes me who she needs,” Villanelle shrugs. </p><p>Villanelle's knee slips easily between hers.</p><p>“Girls are so much fun Eve, really, but <em>women?”</em> the word hushed in reverence sends a shiver up Eve's back. She absolutely does not scoot forward in her seat.</p><p>“Women know what they want, and they aren’t afraid to ask for it. They don’t give a shit, they’re done with hiding their desires. And they know their limits, how to break them, <em>exactly</em> how much they want to be pushed past them.”</p><p>The knee between her legs falls flush to one side and scalds her inner thigh. Villanelle makes a show of scanning their surroundings before leaning forward on her elbows and dropping her voice.</p><p>“I <em>love</em> making women come. Over and over again, each time <em>swearing</em> that it’s the last one, she can’t handle another… being a part of the release of all that pent up tension, all those <em>years</em> of things held so tight just disappearing, wave after wave?” </p><p>Eve laps up every word that drops out of her mouth, canting her hips impossibly closer.</p><p>Villanelle looks her in the eyes with an emphatic whisper, “<em>Nothing</em> else compares.”</p><p>She squeezes Villanelle’s knee between her own. </p><p>A triumphant smile spreads slow across Villanelle’s face and she leans back in her chair. </p><p>She looks Eve up and down before the chair leg scrapes loudly when she stands and straightens her jacket.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Eve chokes in a higher tone than usual. The new absence between her legs feels cold- pressing them together in search of heat.</p><p>“Home,” Billie says, “you should too. See you tomorrow, Eve” and swipes her last grape. </p><p>—-</p><p>“Niko?” she calls out into their home, knowing full well nothing but silence will greet her in return. She deflates at the lack of noise anyway.</p><p>The front door thuds shut behind her and she lets herself lean back against it to sigh.</p><p>After lunch Eve had forced herself into work and ignore all other thoughts. She poured herself over the AA manual, making a briefing for her new blonde colleague who would go undercover tomorrow and even made little notes here and there to help flesh out the façade. </p><p>She researched Aaron and Amber, the latter having a much louder online presence. </p><p>Eve did not think of how it would feel to be a grape crushed between sharp teeth.</p><p>She’d curated more human details for Billie’s profile and character for the next day to run as smoothly as possible.</p><p>It was half-past seven by the time she’d heeded to her stomach growling angrily and decided to call it a night. Villanelle’s mugshot had floated to the top of all her piles anyway.</p><p>She rubs her eyes and blindly steps on the back of her shoe with a heel, nudging it off once it’s loose. The other shoe snags on her toe. She kicks with more and more vigour until it whips off her foot and pounds into the wall, clattering down the hallway until the hall falls silent again.</p><p>She would cry if she had the energy. </p><p>Her curls bounce free from her elastic and she tugs her fingers through them harder than she needs to. She doesn’t bother to fix her coat when it slumps off the hook she hangs it on. </p><p>Eve follows her feet in search of something that will soften the edges of her world. She wouldn’t be opposed to finding some details a little blurred when she wakes up. </p><p>There’s only Niko’s beer in the fridge aside from groceries. She slams the door closed and presses her forehead to it. Eve bends to peer into the built-in wine rack in their island and cheers internally at the sight of a full bottle of red.</p><p>By the time the microwave beeps with her instant meal she’s drained her first glass and filled another, alcohol landing cold in her stomach. At least Niko couldn’t chide her for eating freezer shepherds pie.</p><p>“Ah!” she yelps as the bottom scalds her fingertips and she speed walks to drop it onto the coffee table, <em>“shit shit shit shit shit shit.”</em></p><p>A bit of potato flies from the dish with the collision and she watches it arc into the air before landing on the hardwood beside… some, leaves?</p><p>Eve crouches down to inspect the small pile of green on the floor. It’s a small handful of leaves from the plant resting above on the mantle.<br/>She stands to carefully turn the vines over in her hands, searching for where the plant must be dying. She prods the soil, parting leaves to look for telltale brown. Instead, she finds torn stems where the leaves look like they’ve been broken off. </p><p>She quirks her eyebrows with a “hmph,” and gathers the leaves in her hands to place them next to her meal. </p><p>Despite the airtight plan of attack her mind continues to feed her all the minor possibilities for error, shining light through any holes she might have missed and screaming in her ear to triple check them again. </p><p>Eve stuffs her face and wishes her brain would leave her alone for five minutes. She finishes her second glass and pours a healthy third.</p><p>Once the plastic tray is picked clean she leans back onto the couch and closes her eyes, one hand on her full belly and the other around the stem of her glass. She sinks into the couch starting to spin under her. </p><p>Her mind is lulled by the gentle motion for a few minutes before roaring back to volume.</p><p>
  <em>What if Villanelle slips out of cover?</em>
</p><p>She rolls her eyes and takes another gulp. </p><p>Like that would happen, after the impressive show in her home earlier. And the disguise only really has to work on Amber, she doesn't have to convince the other AA goers she’s on the road to recovery. </p><p>If her disguises worked as effectively as they did on Eve, Villanelle would be Amber’s best friend in no time. </p><p>Villanelle’s deception skills bring an unwelcome echo to her ears.</p><p>
  <em>…they know their limits, how to break them…</em>
</p><p>Eve sways when she stands suddenly, surprising herself. She clutches the arm of the couch to steady herself and waits for the room to let up a bit. Curls tickle her shoulders and she swishes her head to feel it a little more. </p><p>
  <em>…exactly how much they want to be pushed past them…</em>
</p><p>Eve takes another gulp and bobs a bit with a step toward the stereo. She purses her lips while contemplating what kind of music would be best to drown herself out with. She runs a finger across their CD collection and settles for something with lots of angry guitar and smashing drums. </p><p>Fumbling with her glass, the case, <em>opening</em> the case, the disk itself and the stupid little CD hole, she drops it all on the ground. Leaning down to pick it up makes her swing forward, bones gliding loose in their sockets and hinges.</p><p>She shoves it into the CD player and cranks the volume before dragging her feet to slump back onto the couch. The machine chicks and hums before the disk whirrs quietly in action. </p><p>
  <em>Over and over again, each time swearing that it’s the last one, she can’t handle another…</em>
</p><p>Her ears feel warm.</p><p>Dramatic violins of Beethoven’s fifth opening startle her into sloshing wine onto the floor. </p><p>The string section chases her through the kitchen as she stumbles for paper towel, horns roaring to life to blare when she finds it. </p><p>Timpani beats loud as thunder in their living room when her knees hit the hardwood. She pats the red wine puddle up before lunging for the volume knob.</p><p>She realizes she’s panting once she can hear herself think again, swaying back onto the couch and holding her head in her hands. The orchestra continues to play quietly. </p><p>
  <em>…all those years of things held so tight just disappearing, wave after wave?</em>
</p><p>She shakes her head again, trying to banish the phantom knee between hers.</p><p><em>I love making women come </em>rattles out of curls instead.</p><p>Her fingers find swollen heat waiting for her. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:) </p><p>is this too much canon? i'm trying to balance it out, is it working? ah !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. nice and normal and decent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
AA proves to be pretty boring to listen to as an eavesdropper. Eve goes back and forth between watching the man sat at the next table eat a seemingly boundless amount of hardboiled eggs and trying to not seem like she’s staring at his frightening ability to eat eggs. </p><p>“I recognize a lot of what Amber was saying. I wish I was better. A better person,” Eve’s ears perk up at Billie’s smooth voice dropping Amber’s name.</p><p>She absentmindedly plays with her pen, dragging her eyes from the shells being cracked and peeled to flick over the canvas prints on the walls. </p><p>The back of Eve’s head leans lightly against the wall behind her.</p><p>
  <em>They look like the ocean.</em>
</p><p>“…because it is just so much harder to be nice, and normal, and decent than it is to be like this.”</p><p>Her spine straightens, yesterday’s words worming their way out of Billie’s mouth and into her earpiece. Eve runs the tip of her thumb over the clicker of her pen.</p><p>“I hurt someone when I was in Paris,” Eve’s tendons twitch in her wrist. Billie’s unrolled R sounds flat and awkward in comparison to Villanelle’s.</p><p>“My husband just left, he couldn’t take it, he can’t handle me anymore…” Billie continues, “he’s <em>too nice.”</em></p><p>Eve bristles, eyes widening as she sucks in a breath. She brings a closed hand to her mouth to keep from cursing in the café and drawing undue attention. The man splinters another eggshell apart. </p><p>“My best friend was killed in an accident- it was my fault,” she stresses <em>accident,</em> “I have nobody left.”</p><p>Eve’s knuckles press hard into the cartilage of her nose, her thumbnail digging into her cheek. She breathes heavy through her nose.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t have ‘nobody’ left.</em>
</p><p>“Well, almost nobody… And that’s, my story, I guess,” </p><p>He wedges his nail into fleshy skin that holds it together, shell cracking to pieces between his fingers.</p><p>“Poor me. Poor me… Pour me a drink,” the group leader says flat as water.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Billie challenges.</p><p>“It’s just, erm- just, careful with the self-pity,” a woman chimes gently.</p><p>“Ah… did you-did you hear, my story? My best friend just <em>died,”</em> Eve picks up her pen only to throw it back down at the table and slam her notebook closed, “my husband has <em>left me,</em> I’m having a really awful time!”</p><p>Something sharp twists in her chest.</p><p>Eve turns away to look out the window but it’s too loud to tune out- the sounds of splitting and carnage prick at the hairs of her inner ear.</p><p>“Hey… we’ve all played the blame game,” another woman says. </p><p>“Carleen, did you want to speak? What would you like to share with the group?”</p><p>The group welcomes Carleen in a monotonous chorus, sweeping over Billie and into other people’s personal lives. Eve tunes out the rest of the session.</p><p>She clenches her jaw tight and waits at the bar of the café long enough that Mr. Eggs has cleaned his spot and left her alone to stew. There’s a little piece of shell he missed, a brown fleck glaring against the dark wood. </p><p>Eve reaches out with an outstretched pointer finger and crushes it to the surface before returning to her angry contemplation. </p><p>Villanelle in Billie’s clothes leans on the bar to get up on the stool next to her a new wave of fury wells in her chest.</p><p>“Don’t be mad,” Villanelle starts before she’s even seated.</p><p>“Don’t you ever do that again.”</p><p>“Do what again?” Villanelle asks stupidly, as if she doesn’t know.</p><p>Eve leans forward on the bar, “If you <em>ever</em> use me or my life again, this is over.”</p><p>Villanelle’s face twists with contempt.</p><p>“You asked me to come work for <em>you,</em> remember?” she retorts.</p><p>Eve fumbles in her bag for her copy of the binder she delivered to Villanelle yesterday. She pulls out a handout about AA and waves it between them.</p><p>“Did you even read the AA packet I gave you?” </p><p>Villanelle’s eyes flick to the packet and back to her face.</p><p>“Yeah,” the answer is a second too delayed.</p><p>
  <em>Are you fucking serious?</em>
</p><p>Eve flattens it to the tabletop, tapping the front.</p><p>“Because if you <em>had,</em> you’d know the first rule is <em>honesty.”</em></p><p>“How can I be honest when I’m being a different person?” Villanelle asks incredulously.</p><p>“Aren’t you always a different person?” Eve snaps. <em>She looks better blonde.</em></p><p>“Aren’t <em>you?</em> At least I’m good at playing someone else.”</p><p>“Not that good, obviously,” Eve bites without thinking before turning to take a sip of her coffee. It’s lukewarm at best and far too sweet.</p><p>“Don’t speak to me like that, Eve,” her words are threaded with a warning, “I like you, but I don’t like you that much.”</p><p>The words press her into stinging silence. It hurts more than she thinks it should.</p><p>“Don’t forget,” Villanelle quirks her head, “the only thing that makes you interesting is me.”</p><p>Eve fights the urge to spit something hurtful but does nothing to hide her anger.</p><p>“We’ll try again in the morning,” Eve rises from her seat and gathers her things, leaving Villanelle in the café window. Her short walk to the station is filled with defensive mutterings and exasperation. </p><p>She gets off the tube a stop early to get groceries, handbasket filling with ramen and another instant shepherd’s pie. They weren’t as good as home cooked but she wasn’t about to learn how to make the damned thing.</p><p>Once the groceries are all unpacked Eve grips the back of her neck with two clasped hands and hangs her head forward. She releases a long sigh. </p><p>“Ramen,” she declares to the empty kitchen and fills a pot with water. The gas whirrs into action and she tears the noodles out of the plastic wrapping, fishing out the flavour packet and putting it aside. She reaches for salt to speed up the boiling while reading the instructions- she knows it’s just “boil water, add noodles, eat noodles” but she still has to check every ti-</p><p>“Euh!” Eve recoils and pulls her hand back. Brown sludge coats her fingertips.</p><p>“Oh, what the fuck?!” she peers into the container with trepidation.</p><p>She finds half of a browning, peeled banana with three finger-sized holes. </p><p>“Ew…” she reaches in and gingerly removes it, tossing it into the compost. She scoops out any banana’d salt and debates whether it goes in the compost or the garbage before returning to cooking.</p><p>The house is quiet while she slurps her noodles. Her brain reminds her that Niko is usually home by now. Eve’s stomach churns with a swirl of feelings she’s not sure how to decipher. </p><p>Pages flick over and over at the table as she reviews her files for the next day- she doesn’t need to, it’s all well memorized by now, but she needs something to fill the time between now and going to bed. Something other than straining to hear a car in the driveway she knows isn’t coming and keys that won't click the lock over.</p><p>It’s… kind of weird to be here without him again. They haven’t been fantastic the past while, ever since- well, ever since Villanelle, basically, but that doesn’t mean it feels good. They’ve been together a long time, she misses his familiar comfort. </p><p>There’s nobody to remind her that the timer is going off, or that the laundry hamper is full. She doesn't hear any floorboards creak under footsteps or muffled sounds of the black and white movies he loved to watch. </p><p>Their bed feels huge without another person beside her. She wakes and stares at his empty pillow in the early morning light.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe it isn’t too late.</em>
</p><p>Eve slides out of bed and gets dressed as an idea jumps into her head, checking the bedside clock. If she hurries she’ll have time before she’s due at their AA meeting. </p><p>Work bag slung over her shoulder and an olive branch tucked under her arm, she heads out to Niko’s school. It’s a book from his list of books to read, one that he’s been really keen on starting. It’s an anniversary present now-turned apology gift.</p><p>Her shoes click on the pavement as she rounds the gate into the schoolyard. She scans the yard, eyes bouncing from student to student and an occasional teacher. She spots him sitting at a picnic table, seemingly lost in thought. Once she sees Niko a small smile spreads on her face and she quickens her pace.</p><p>The appearance of a head of ginger hair halts her gait. </p><p>Gemma leans into Niko’s field of view and offers a greeting. He snaps out of whatever deep thoughts he was lost in and smiles, moustache quirking into a smile she hasn’t seen recently.</p><p>Students start to flood to the entrance when the bell rings out across the yard and Niko bends to swing his bag over his shoulder. Gemma steps forward and tugs on his wrists, pulls him into a hug.</p><p>It only starts to hurt when she sees Niko hug her back, holding her in his arms a little tighter than she thought he might.</p><p>Gemma tugs on his hand and motions with her head toward the school. Niko chuckles and Eve watches him follow behind her into the building.</p><p>Standing alone on the tarmac, a painted hopscotch course under her feet, Eve feels stupid. Hot, embarrassed tears prick her eyes and roll down her face. She knew Gemma liked Niko, she hardly kept it a secret but… </p><p>…but she’d never seen Niko reciprocate any of it. He had smiled shyly, let his hand be taken by hers, took comfort in her embrace. Like it could lead somewhere else. </p><p>Not like something was happening, but that maybe he’d be okay with it if it were to.</p><p>Maybe Eve really did have nobody left. </p><p>Her feet drag on the way back to the bus stop and she pulls her hair into a tight bun. Her mind wanders back to how Niko’s arms came around Gemma’s shoulders. She almost misses her stop.</p><p>“D’you mind?” Egg guy apparently couldn’t find anywhere else to eat eggs and motioned to the chair at her table as he arrives. Setting up her equipment, she waves him a, <em>yes, you can take the chair. Instead, he drops into the seat.</em></p><p>Four eggs later the tabletop was littered with bits of shell, much to Eve’s annoyance.</p><p>“Does anyone else have anything they want to say?” the group leader asks in her ear. </p><p>Billie speaks up, “I would.”</p><p>“Go ahead Billie, whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>Eve glares as he cracks another peel and pointedly pulls her paperwork away from the carnage. His cheeks are stuffed full of egg as he catches her scornful gaze, wiping his hands off and standing awkwardly to leave.</p><p>
  <em>Sure, leave these here for me, thanks.</em>
</p><p>Eve doesn’t have much time to grumble about her newly inherited pile of compost before Billie speaks again, “I have real trouble telling the truth.”</p><p>She sounds nervous, shy almost. Eve’s brows knit. Her voice is quiet but loud enough to give off her discomfort with honesty. She’s pushing at something new.</p><p>“I don't understand the concept, actually, but somebody told me it was important, so…”</p><p>Eve’s chest rises and falls with a slow breath, a quiet thought passing through her mind. </p><p>“… here goes.”</p><p>There’s a beat of silence before she starts again.</p><p>“Most of the time… most days, I feel… <em>nothing.</em> I don't feel anything,” Eve picks up a fluttering exhale in her voice, “it is <em>so</em> boring. I wake up and I think, again? Really? I have to do this <em>again?”</em></p><p>Eve leans forward in her chair, trying to pay more attention.</p><p>“And what I really don’t understand is how come everybody else isn’t <em>screaming</em> with, with  boredom too?”</p><p>“I try to make myself <em>feel</em> something,” a shaky breath before the next sentence, “more and more and more but… it doesn’t make any difference.”</p><p>It’s Billie’s voice but they’re not Billie’s words.</p><p>Eve’s heart tugs, just a little, at the thought that they might be Oksana’s.</p><p>“No matter what I <em>do,</em> I don't <em>feel,”</em> her voice breaks with tears Eve doesn’t need to see to know they’re there, <em><strong>“…anything." </strong></em></p><p>"I- I hurt myself, it doesn’t hurt. I buy what I want, I don’t want it. I do what I like, I don’t- I don’t like it…”</p><p>The room is quiet. Eve holds her breath.</p><p>“I’m just so bored,” she finishes. </p><p>“I think we can all relate to that,” the leader says in response.</p><p><em>We are the same</em> hums quiet at the back of Eve’s neck. Her heart feels like it never has. Soft.</p><p>
  <em>I didn’t… I didn’t know that was how she felt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I didn’t even think she’d really be honest, maybe some twisted version of her idea of honesty… but… </em>
</p><p>Eve sits in quiet contemplation while AA wraps up. Her mind turns a smooth stone over again and again.</p><p>
  <em>She doesn’t feel anything? She buys all those lavish clothes and doesn’t even like them?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why does this feel like trust?</em>
</p><p>Billie’s red coat is a pop of colour against the building behind her. Billie catches her eye, mouthing ‘ready?’ and starts walking forward.</p><p>
  <em>Ready for what?</em>
</p><p>Eve looks up from her phone and watches Billie approach Marie on the sidewalk. She keeps her eyes on Eve until the moment she needs to look away.</p><p>
  <em>What are you doing?</em>
</p><p>“You need to give Amber some space,” Billie’s voice filters through. Marie turns to face her.</p><p>“This is none of your business. Back off,” she says curtly and turns to walk to another part of the sidewalk to watch for Amber’s car.</p><p>Billie looks up to check that Eve is still watching as she approaches Marie again. Eve watches her attentively, confused as to where she’s going with this.</p><p>“Hey, I’m going through a really difficult time at the moment. I’m just… I’m sorry, okay?” Billie apologizes and pulls Marie into a hug. Eve peers at her through the glass with a question on her features.</p><p>Her eyes do not leave Eve’s as she twists Marie by the shoulders and pushes her in front of a truck.</p><p>It crushes her with one blare of the horn before the brakes squeal to a halt. </p><p>Eve gasps and bolts to stand, a palm pressing flat to the cool glass of the window. Screams erupt from the scattered passersby on the sidewalk and a clamour of people pool at the scene.</p><p>Amber shrieks at the sight of Marie, splattered in blood and at odd angles underneath the truck and lunges to reach for her. Billie pulls her away from the body and into her arms, cupping the back of her head and guiding her face into the crook of her neck. She clutches to Billie, sobbing into her embrace and it clicks in Eve’s mind.</p><p>Villanelle’s eyes bore into her from Billie’s face.</p><p><em>I did this for you- for us,</em> they scream.</p><p>Eve feels proud. And sick. And flattered. Conflicted. Tricked.</p><p>She doesn’t really know what she feels.</p><p>She wrestles with it the entire bus ride to Carolyn’s fencing gym, because of course Carolyn fences. One of the fencing uniforms waves at her before the mask is removed and reveals Carolyn.</p><p>“Eve!”</p><p>“You heard?” Eve starts when she meets her.</p><p>“About the traffic accident? Yes, tragic,” Carolyn says, a little out of breath.</p><p>“Carolyn, it was-”</p><p>“Very upsetting, yes… I’m sure,” she interrupts before pivoting, “has contact been made between Villanelle and Amber Peele?”</p><p>“They’ve been texting,” Eve replies after a moment of clanging metal and shuffling feet.</p><p>
  <em>We’re pretending.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I see.</em>
</p><p>“Good! Well, that’s something, then,” Carolyn perks up, “keep me informed of any developments,” donning her mask and returning to her match.</p><p>More violence preformed by Villanelle for Eve’s gain.</p><p>
  <em>For them? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For Amber. The mission.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why didn’t I look away? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She wanted me to watch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I could have looked away. </em>
</p><p>The lie fills her with tar. She knew she wanted to see what she was about to do, what Villanelle asked if she was ‘ready’ for.</p><p>A caffeine headache starts to unfurl behind her eyes as she opens the door back to the office. Her phone buzzes with a text, and then another. She rubs her temple then pulls out her phone. </p><p>A series of emojis make up the first message- a truck, a dead face, a ghost and a thumbs up.</p><p>
  <em>V - 18:33</em><br/>
<em> Hi Kill Commander - wanna hang? Vx</em>
</p><p>It feels too soon to joke about vehicular manslaughter and distaste rises in her throat at the title ‘Kill Commander.’ It’s a joke, she knows, but it hits a little harder having just seen someone she’s in command of kill someone. </p><p>Her heart flutters without permission at the signature.</p><p>
  <em>Vx…!</em>
</p><p>She rolls her eyes at herself.</p><p>
  <em>It’s a text, a two-letter text, calm down. Okay, maybe one letter is an initial, and the other is a letter that happens to coincidentally be text lingo for a kiss.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Which they’ve done.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And she wants to do again.</em>
</p><p>Eve pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and licks.</p><p>
  <em>No, stop. It’s one key over from V, it’s a typo.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s a joke, like the emojis. It’s hard enough to read tone over text, let alone little tiny pictures. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wait, am I old now?</em>
</p><p>Against her better judgement she taps the keyboard. She tells herself she wouldn’t have responded if there had been one less letter. Before she taps send she decides to be an asshole and wait ten minutes before responding out of pure spite.</p><p>She makes it to six.</p><p>
  <em>Eve - 18:39</em><br/>
<em> No, I’m working</em><br/>
<em> Eve</em>
</p><p>Sitting heavy in her desk chair she tilts her head to one side to tug the elastic out of her hair and pretends she’s not looking at her silent phone every twenty seconds.</p><p>She presses the home button eight times to show a blank inbox before she shakes her head and tells herself to stop being a teenager.</p><p>Logging the daily report becomes more and more boring. Her stomach rumbles and she knows she’s bound to start getting hangry soon. Niko used to tease and call it a ‘countdown to angry-town.’</p><p>Her phone buzzes and she clamours for it immediately. </p><p>
  <em>V - 18:48</em><br/>
<em> You don’t need to sign your name, I have your number saved</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eve - 18:48</em><br/>
<em> Then why did you? You gave me your number yesterday</em>
</p><p>
  <em>V - 18:50</em><br/>
<em> I’m an enigma, duh</em>
</p><p>
  <em>V - 18:50</em><br/>
<em> duh</em>
</p><p>It’s followed by a dancing salsa lady. Eve snorts and can’t fight the shy smile on her face. </p><p>
  <em>An X from V! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>On purpose!</em>
</p><p>Her smile slips when she gets the same text she’s gotten for the past three days.</p><p>
  <em>Niko - 18:52</em><br/>
<em> Not coming back tonight</em>
</p><p>Then, one she hasn’t.</p><p>
  <em>Niko - 18:52</em><br/>
<em> Going to stay with a friend for a bit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>No… no, no no…no this, this can’t be real. This isn’t happening.</em>
</p><p><em>He always comes back…</em><br/>
 <br/>
<em>What friend is he staying with? One of the boys from soccer? Or someone from bridge? Someone from-</em></p><p>A pit sinks in her stomach.</p><p>
  <em>Gemma.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading my fic</p><p>comments are always welcome and appreciated! let me know what you liked or what you might like to see </p><p>:) &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. i want you, i miss you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>eve polastri's terrible awful no good very bad day... and morning</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>bear with me here as i try to find the best angle to bend canon over my knee, there is so much dialogue</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Black leather belt. Socks. Underwear. Undershirt-</p><p>
  <em>Does he even wear undershirts anymore?</em>
</p><p>She rolls the fabric between fingers before opting for a t-shirt and shoves it into one of his backpacks.</p><p><em>You miss him,</em> she repeats, <em>you miss coming home to someon- to Niko, coming home to Niko.</em></p><p>Eve heads to the bathroom to grab some of his toiletries only to find them missing instead. Deodorant no longer in the drawer, empty shelf in the shower and his razor gone from the countertop.</p><p>Her chest starts doing something ugly and she slams the front door behind her as she leaves, muttering angrily when the key doesn’t turn the lock over fast enough. She picks at the side of her thumb with her nail for the duration of her bus ride across town.</p><p>It’s raw and red when she spots a wicker basket on a bicycle full of candy pink flowers. She doesn’t need to check the address in blue ink on her palm to know it’s Gemma’s. </p><p>
  <em>You miss him, not his noise and presence. </em>
</p><p>With a last steadying breath she rings the doorbell. She can hear Niko’s voice behind the door and checks her front before straightening a little taller.</p><p>
  <em>You miss him.</em>
</p><p>“Eve,” his face falls when he sees her. </p><p>She softens her face.</p><p>“What’re you doing here, I said I’d come pick my stuff up-“ he steps out onto the step with a furrow between his brows.</p><p>“No it’s fine, I-I was passing, so,” Eve says, and he takes another step and pulls the door closed behind him.</p><p>“How did you get the address?”</p><p>“I called the school, I-” ugliness starts building up again, “I wanted to be helpful,” she responds and matches his furrow.</p><p>
  <em>I’m helping, can’t you see I’m helping? I brought you your things, right to your- to Gemma’s door. I thought of you and your needs, isn't that what you want?</em>
</p><p>He stares at her with disbelief.</p><p>
  <em>Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?</em>
</p><p>As if summoned by the mere thought of her, the front door swings open and Gemma’s face splits into a smile Eve wishes was sincere.</p><p>“Eve! Hello,” her tone is as friendly as the people trying to sell you a new phone at the mall.</p><p>Niko looks to Gemma before meeting his wife’s eyes again, “Eve was just dropping some things off,” his tone leaves no room for further conversation.</p><p>“Oh that’s so nice, ehm… well, d- d’you want to come in?” Niko whirls around to her with his mouth open, too late to take her invitation back, “Have a cuppa?” Gemma finishes.</p><p>“I’m sure Eve’s busy.”</p><p>“No, I’m not,” Eve states pointedly and applies a polite smile for Gemma, “I’d love to,” and pushes past him into the house.</p><p>“What a lovely house,” she forces out upon entering her dining room.</p><p>
  <em>See? I’m being polite to Gemma and her very ugly house. Please come back so I can keep being nice.</em>
</p><p>“Oh thank you, it was my grandmothers- wouldn’t be able to afford this on a teacher’s salary,” Gemma laughs, clearly trying to ease the tension.</p><p>Eve mirrors her with teeth bared more than necessary. Gemma’s hands ball into nervous fists and she drops her smile when she retreats to the kitchen.</p><p>Eve surveys her surroundings; pastels, plant pots, little knick-knacks, A <em>To My Favourite Teacher</em> card, tiny fairy lights. Florals absolutely everywhere.</p><p>An incredulous smile is on Niko’s face once she meets his eye again.</p><p>“How’s work?” his moustache quirks.</p><p>Eve prickles, “It’s good actually. <em>Really</em> good.”</p><p>Gemma’s heels click on the wood floor as she comes to meet them again and clasps her fidgeting hands in front of her.</p><p>“Villanelle keeping you busy?”</p><p>
  <em>I watched her push someone in front of a truck yesterday.</em>
</p><p>“Yeah. Looks like we’re both pretty busy,” Eve’s eyes flick to Gemma and back again, “with work.”</p><p>The building broil of the kettle is the only sound aside from Gemma’s nervous humming. Niko looks to the floor and back to Eve.</p><p>“Can I use your bathroom-” Eve starts.</p><p>“Yes,” Gemma blurts before swallowing, “it’s, um,” and points upwards.</p><p>“Upstairs?” Eve copies her pointing and is met with an affirmative hum. A sigh of relief and Niko’s apologetic tone follow her up the creaky stairs.</p><p>To no-ones surprise, Gemma’s bathroom is similarly decorated; Eve suspects she prides herself on maintaining a consistent style. It smells like vanilla and artificial lavender.</p><p>Eve opens the medicine cabinet and peeks around, shamelessly snooping. Ibuprofen, toothpaste, the usual tiny intimacies of a bathroom. </p><p>An orange prescription bottle sits tucked away in the corner and she feels herself toeing a line before turning it to see the label, careful to avoid making the tablets rattle. </p><p>A low dose of Valium, newly prescribed. She hums to herself before closing the cabinet quietly. </p><p>And then she spots it. </p><p>It’s small, and means nothing, but it stirs something nonetheless.</p><p>A pink toothbrush leaning up against a very familiar green one.</p><p>Eve cranks the water as hot as it can go and scrubs her hands with vigour. She welcomes the sharp sting of soap being slathered into her newly irritated skin.</p><p>Gemma’s bedroom door is ajar and she doesn’t even care that what she’s doing would be considered by many a massive violation of privacy.</p><p>A string of fairy lights, paper decorations and printed photos make her scoff and she pretends to smile before she whacks them in contempt. The further she walks into the room, the more she tastes bile rising up her throat.</p><p>Her commitment to style would almost be admirable if it weren’t the most god awful style she’d ever seen. She has “rustic” furniture, old wooden dressers and end tables that are shittily painted white on purpose. </p><p>
  <em>Sweet and pink.</em>
</p><p>It reeks of Gemma.</p><p>She touches pink plaid sheets and leans her weight on her arm to test how springy the mattress is. A memory of lush golden silk glimmers on her palm when she pulls it away that's followed by a flash of heat she’s starting to crave.</p><p>There’s no clutter, no dried and forgotten makeup wipes or stained coffee mugs, no crumpled receipts lingering on a bedside table. Her entire candy house is carefully curated to be organized yet approachable as if always ready to be viewed- no mess in sight.</p><p>
  <em>Neat and tidy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ugh.</em>
</p><p>She picks up a delicate pearl bracelet and drops it back to the dresser top without care- she can’t tell if they're real or not, she’s never held pearls before. The lid of a jewelry box flips open without a second thought and a sweet music box springs to life, revealing beauty tools in pillowy faux-velvet; sharp scissors and tweezers with pink handles. </p><p>Eve ignores them, transfixed by the miniature ballerina dancing en pointe. Her fingertip brushes the edge of her tutu as she dances to the tiny tune.</p><p>
  <em>Soft and pink and nice and tidy, spinning spinning spinning spinning-</em>
</p><p>Her delicate legs snap easily.</p><p>The ballerina lays silent in her hand and she realizes what she’s done.</p><p>
  <em>Oh Christ.</em>
</p><p>Eve scrambles to cover her mistake, her- whatever, whatever that was, she needs to hide it and hide it now, go downstairs and be nice and normal and get Niko to come back, to do what she came here for. This isn’t what nice people do. Her hands fumble at the knobs for the first drawer of Gemma’s dresser and she pulls it open.</p><p>Pink lace, red trim, rhinestones, tiny bows, strapless, scoop neck- more bras than Eve has ever owned in her life and all a size much larger than her own, arranged by patterns that would all look so beautiful against the cream of Gemma’s skin.</p><p>
  <em>Do you even have mess?</em>
</p><p>Eve’s face screws with rage.</p><p>
  <em>Where do you keep it?! </em>
</p><p>Her hands crush soft lace and wire cups and her nails scratch the bottom of the drawer.</p><p>
  <em>Your bathroom, your kitchen, even your fucking DRAWERS, WHERE IS YOUR MESS?!</em>
</p><p>Eve fumes at the chaos she’s made of Gemma’s organization and breathes through her nose.</p><p>The little ballerina twirls in her hand, ballet slippers still pointed in pose. She watches herself thread the ballerina’s legs through the decorative bridge of a scarlet lace bra. </p><p>
  <em>Hyper-femininity. Performance, violation-</em>
</p><p>“Eve?”</p><p>Bra still in hand, Eve turns around. Gemma takes a cautious step forward.</p><p>“What’re you doing?”</p><p>“I was just, ah…” she tries to separate the ballerina and her message, putting them back in the drawer and hoping Gemma didn't see.</p><p>“Look, I- I understand that things between you and Niko are tough but, I’d really rather you didn’t drag me into this.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>really?” </em></p><p>Eve moves forward and her presence sends Gemma back a step, “You don’t wanna get <em>‘dragged in?”</em></p><p>“Niko…” Gemma calls in a voice laced with fear.</p><p>“You scared?”</p><p>
  <em>Predator.</em>
</p><p>“No, o-of course not.”</p><p>
  <em>Prey.</em>
</p><p>Niko’s footsteps break her spell and Gemma steps quickly to his side. He looks at Eve before catching the scattered pieces of lace and frill behind her.</p><p>“Eve… what’re you doing?”</p><p>Eve can’t stop the laugh that slips out of her mouth, “what are <em>you</em> doing, Niko?” and leaves a bewildered smile on her face.</p><p>“Gemma has a sofa-bed, I’m sleeping downstair-”</p><p>“That’s not what I asked.”</p><p>
  <em>Your hug, your hand in hers and your fucking toothbrush.</em>
</p><p>His jaw drops, “I’d like you to apologize.”</p><p>Gemma pipes up, “no really, it’s fine-”</p><p>“Gemma is my <em>friend,”</em> he interrupts with a scoff, “you remember friends, don’t you? There’s nothing going on here.”</p><p>
  <em>I’m so tired.</em>
</p><p>“You’re right. There’s <em>nothing,</em> going on here.” </p><p>Gemma looks away. Niko looks at her with surprised hurt. Eve looks at the ceiling. </p><p>The room is silent.</p><p>Eve exhales and gives Gemma a sudden thumbs up, “I hope you like the missionary position!” and walks toward the door.</p><p>“I do, actually.”</p><p>Eve pats Niko’s shoulder without looking at him on the way past, “you’ll be happy here.”</p><p>
  <em>It’s neat and organized, boring and soft and very, very nice. It’s what you’ve always wanted and what I could never be.</em>
</p><p>“I dread to think where you’ll be happy, Eve,” he’s trying to make a point about who she is, as if she doesn't already know.</p><p>Her thumb is bleeding when she gets back to the office, leaving red smears on her paperwork- by the time Villanelle reclines in the conference room she’s already bled through a bandaid.</p><p>“Do I have to wear the wig?”</p><p>“What do you think? Can we please look at-”</p><p>“I think that I don’t want to wear the wig.”</p><p>“Well, you think wrong. Now-”</p><p>“But it’s so hot and itchy-” Villanelle whines.</p><p><em>“I don’t care!”</em> Eve yells.</p><p>Villanelle recoils a little in her seat at the shout. </p><p>“How is Billie supposed to suddenly have blonde hair, hm?” she bites, “why would you think you wouldn’t have to wear the wig?”</p><p>Villanelle traces the edge of her binder with a finger tip, rearranges her legs under the table. She works her jaw.</p><p>“I know I have to wear the wig. I’m not new to this,” she says without looking up, “it was a joke.”</p><p>Eve sighs with annoyance, “now isn’t the time for jokes, you need to study the material for tonight.”</p><p>“I know! I just-” Villanelle rolls her eyes and chews at her bottom lip before mumbling.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>She mumbles again, looking away from Eve with raised eyebrows.</p><p>“Wh-”</p><p>“I was trying to lighten the mood!” she shouts, “you look… stressed, I was just trying to make you feel, better, alright?”</p><p>An awkward silence falls between them.</p><p>“Oh,” Eve deflates.</p><p>“Yeah,” Villanelle nods once before scooping up her paperwork and shoving it in her bag.</p><p>“Whe- where are you going?”</p><p>“I can study by myself.”</p><p>“Wait, Vil-” she reaches out for her hand and barely touches a fingertip before Villanelle stands and pulls it away. </p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Eve puts her face in her hands and pushes her palms into her eyes until she sees red mandalas swirling on her eyelids. She blames the tears on the pressure she just applied to them.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>---</p><p>The stakeout is going surprisingly smoothly. Or, not a stakeout, since Billie is inside, and they’re not watching for anyone outside. The… surveillance? As always, the seats creak with every motion and the van smells like stale sweat. And popcorn, thanks to Konstantin.</p><p>Billie is doing fine. Doing well, even. Her banter with Amber sounds genuine, as do Amber’s reactions and jokes- but this is about Aaron, and he seems just as standoffish and cautious as ever.</p><p>Konstantin’s popcorn pulls her out of her notes, ready to feed info to Billie through her earpiece at a moments notice.</p><p>“Can you eat a little quieter?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Why did you bring popcorn on a stakeout?”</p><p>“This isn’t a-“</p><p>“This isn’t a stakeout, I know I know, I mean,” she shakes her head “you couldn’t bring something other than the world’s loudest snack?”</p><p>He shrugs, “we are both wearing headphones,” and pops another piece in his mouth. Eve scoffs and returns to her notes- <em>he’s not wrong.</em></p><p>“Well I couldn’t do a job like yours, running a huge company?” pulls Eve back into Billie’s audio feed, “no wonder you’re selling it.”</p><p>“How did you know I was selling it?” Aaron asks.</p><p>Eve throws Konstantin a concerned look- there had been some murmuring in the business world and an article about selling the company but none of that would fit into Billie’s constructed demographic.</p><p>He chews more popcorn.</p><p>“In the <em>Economist?</em> Interested in business, are you? No offence but you ah, don’t seem the type,” Eve can picture Aaron’s haughty face and wrinkles her own.</p><p>“It was on the magazine pile at my waxing salon,” Billie smoothly improvises. </p><p>
  <em>No, Villanelle improvises.</em>
</p><p>Konstantin laughs around a mouthful before Amber and Aaron start speaking in a language unknown to Eve. Aaron, then Amber, then back to Aaron.</p><p>“What is that,” she points to her headset and turns to Konstantin, “Turkish?”</p><p>“Greek, some kind of Greek,” he replies simply, “they need to be more careful.”</p><p>“He’s trying to provoke her.”</p><p>
  <em>That bastard.</em>
</p><p>She flicks the mic switch and leans in to talk to Billie, “ignore him, he’s an asshole.”</p><p>“Where is the bathroom?” Billie asks before the sound of a chair scraping. Once she hears a few footsteps Eve assumes she’s alone.</p><p>“Okay, Villanelle- see if you can find his office,” she flicks through another section of her notes and reads from the list of possibly incriminating documents, “um, look for any hidden correspondence, written proof of interest in sale… let me think, what else, what else…”</p><p>
  <em>Be safe.</em>
</p><p>List of bullet points reaching an end, she whispers, “and then get back, and don’t take too long!”</p><p>
  <em>Why am I whispering? Not like anyone else can hear me.</em>
</p><p>“Lost?” Aaron asks suddenly. Eve presses her knuckles into her mouth, pulls them away to look at Konstantin. He chews pensively.</p><p>“No, obviously not. I’m being nosy,” Billie covers with a quick laugh, “you read all these?” she adds another touch. </p><p>
  <em>She must be in his office, or by a bookcase somewhere private. Did he follow her?</em>
</p><p>Aaron responds after a beat of quiet, “the loo’s that way. Try not to be too nosy on your way back. It’s not… polite.”</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>The click of a door is followed by more footsteps and the murmuring of dinner conversation.</p><p>“It’s okay, it’s okay, just don’t let him see that he’s rattled you,” Eve sighs into the mic and flips back to her minimal notes on Aaron, “he doesn’t like people who stand up to him-”</p><p>“Maybe he does like it,” Konstantin interjects.</p><p>“I don’t think so!”</p><p>He rustles the bag and says, “mm, popcorn,” for absolutely no reason, and Eve wonders if all Russians are as annoying as the two she knows.</p><p>Eve rolls her eyes, “I just wish we could <em>see</em> her,” and rattles her pen between her fingers.</p><p>“Stop smothering her.”</p><p>“I’m not <em>smothering</em> her, I’m trying to <em>help</em> her.”</p><p>“I don't think she needs this much help,” he laughs.</p><p>“We don’t know that!”</p><p><em>“I</em> know that.”</p><p>Konstantin shakes the bag of popcorn in her direction as an offering. She shakes her head and wishes she hadn’t when her stomach growls painfully.</p><p>Amber excitedly suggests playing a game of Dixit, whatever that is, and Eve’s concerns are quelled temporarily. She eyes the bag of snack food and convinces herself she isn’t starving.</p><p>“Sorry, what's happening?” Billie asks after Amber delivers a confusing rhyme. Eve is equally lost, even after Googling the game herself.</p><p>Aaron explains with a huff, “well, just choose which card from your hand you think accords with Amber’s charming piece of doggerel and- and hand it to her face down.”</p><p>“Doggerel?” Villanelle’s R is trying so hard to lay flat on Billie’s tongue. Eve fights a smile at her confusion with English slang.</p><p>“Just pick any one,” he sounds annoyed.</p><p>
  <em>She must be getting under his skin.</em>
</p><p>“Is this something you two always do? Play games together?” Billie asks. </p><p>“Meaning?” he leads, thick with implication.</p><p>“Ah, nothing, I was just asking,” Billie breathes a laugh.</p><p>“You ask a lot of questions, you seem to have the mind of a five year old,” he says as if it’s not a blatant insult.</p><p>“A-face, why're you being so mean, she's my friend,” Amber comes to her defence. She gets points in Eve’s book for trying to stand up to an egomaniac.</p><p>“I wouldn’t classify as a friend someone I once sat next to in a <em>toilet stall.”</em></p><p>“Wow, that’s not how we-” Billie starts before Aaron interrupts.</p><p>“You’re struggling with the rules of Dixit, a simple storytelling game for players aged eight and upwards, and yet you <em>claim</em> to have <em>two</em> philosophy degrees.”</p><p>“I <em>do</em> have two philosophy degre-“</p><p>“I <em>know</em>, I checked,” he speaks over her again before he finishes gloating, “which is why I’m puzzled by this whole ditz act, one part of the equation doesn’t add up.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“Please remind me… what exactly did you study, again?”</p><p>Eve holds her breath.</p><p>“General philosophy in social policy and philosophy of religion,” Billie recites Eve tamps down the pride rising in her chest.</p><p>“Ah, philosophy of religion, fascinating… where do you stand on Anselm’s ontological argument?”</p><p>Eve whirls to Konstantin after Billie’s silence stretches too long to be considered careful rumination, “is there just the <em>smallest</em> chance she read the file?”</p><p>He shakes his head in a confidant <em>no</em> and she scrambles for the thick binder of research she did for this exact situation. Just in case Villanelle forgot, or if she didn’t study her copy because of some reason that totally wasn’t related to her at all. </p><p>She definitely didn’t make a binder out of spite.</p><p>Eve flips to the <em>Philosophy of Religion</em> tab and is met with a quotation;</p><p>
  <em>‘God is that which no greater can be conceived.’</em>
</p><p>“Well come on then, hmm?” Aaron mocks.</p><p>She flicks the mic toggle again, “Villanelle, Anselm’s ontological argument is, ehm…” she fumbles to paraphrase and looks at her highlighted summative statement.</p><p>
  <em>What you want and imagine are always better when you can have them.</em>
</p><p>“…tell him the classic version is your favourite.”</p><p>“It’s perfectly simple, where do you stand on it?” Aaron needles.</p><p>“That it’s boring,” Billie responds- her carefully researched facade is starting to slip.</p><p>“Oh, we can do better than that. What’s your favourite refutation?” he presses.</p><p>“Saint Thomas Aquinas” Eve tries to help.</p><p>
  <em>Why isn't she saying it?</em>
</p><p>Konstantin taps her binder, “I think she has taken her earpiece out,” he says matter of factly.</p><p>Her gut sinks.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“I’m waiting…” Aaron challenges in her ear, and there’s nothing she can do about it.</p><p>“Drop it Aaron, <em>please</em> stop,” Amber’s tone makes it clear that this is not a one-off occasion.</p><p>Eve starts to sweat beneath her clothes.</p><p>“The grown-ups are talking, Amber,” he fires back, “if it <em>bored</em> you, you must’ve studied it so you can at least <em>detail</em> the argument for us, I mean it’s first-year stuff. Even this thicky will be able to follow it- so what’s the first premise?”</p><p>He doesn’t wait long for an answer.</p><p>“Orrr, can you at least tell us what ontological means? Can you even spell it?” he goads.</p><p>“Here you are,” he says triumphantly after a few moments of silence, “if you’re going to lie, at least do a bit of research.”</p><p>Eve gnaws on her bottom lip.</p><p>Finally, Billie speaks, “oh, I get it,” before taking a pause, “you’re a bully. Why would I even <em>bother</em> to have a conversation with someone like you, what is the <em>point?</em> My dad taught me that there is only one way to communicate with a bully,” she continues. </p><p>There’s new blood under her fingernail.</p><p>“I see, and what was his advice?” Aaron asks condescendingly before the room is pierced with a  loud crack.</p><p>Eve’s heart races to her throat, “what just happened?” she asks Konstantin.</p><p>“By nose iz bleedig,” Aaron groans.</p><p>“That mystery is solved!” Konstantin smiles. Eve whips her headphones off and bolts from her seat, making a move to get past him and out to find Villanelle, “forget it.”</p><p>His large hand stops her from moving a step, “don’t. Let her cool off,” he leans back in his seat, “you are all over her.”</p><p>She sits back down and puts her face in her hands for the second time today.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck me. I am, he’s right. I am all over her, and not even in the fun way.</em>
</p><p>“Oh my god, fu- well that’s it then, it’s over!”</p><p>“You don’t know that.”</p><p><em>“Yes I do</em>, she <em>hit him in the face</em> and stormed out of his house, that doesn’t end with a second invite.”</p><p>“What is the saying? The show m- no, eh… oh, it is not over until it is over,” Konstantin beams. Her stomach hurts.</p><p>“Give me that.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The popcorn.”</p><p>“No,” he pulls it closer to himself.</p><p>‘What? Why not?”</p><p>“You already said no,” he cranes further and further back.</p><p>“And now I’m saying give it,” Eve stretches out of her seat and tries to pry it from him.</p><p>He stands and easily holds it a foot away from her grabbing hands, “well too bad, it is my popcorn.”</p><p>“I only want a little!”</p><p>“That is a lie and you know it,” he points at her.</p><p>She sulks and takes her seat again, “I do know it.”</p><p>When Konstantin puts the van in park outside her house he hands her the bag. She shakes it to find it’s practically empty and gives him a look.</p><p>“Only a little!” he laughs and she can’t help from chuckling once the van pulls away and her street is left quiet again.</p><p>What she needs is food, a shower and some sleep- what wants is something to take the edge off. The corkscrew waits patiently for her on the counter and she’s eager to put it to use. </p><p>
  <em>Why was I so mean to her?</em>
</p><p>She’s topped up her glass before she’s even finished it so that it still counts as the first one.</p><p>It hits her quicker when she hasn’t eaten and there’s nothing acting as a buffer between stomach lining and blood. Eve hates that she loves it.</p><p>
  <em>She was trying to make me feel better and I couldn’t even take a joke.</em>
</p><p>Her joints slacken in place and the crease that’s been between her brows all day smooths into nothing, she shifts her weight side to side and she decides to pour another once she’s drained the first.</p><p>
  <em>And now she’s probably mad at me, AND she didn’t read the binder- which is technically her fault, but isn’t NOT mine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We could have had a cute little study dat- a very professional study… time. As colleagues. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We could have had time.</em>
</p><p>She grips at the counter for balance, empty popcorn bag crinkling under her hand and she decides to throw it out right now- as a gift for tomorrow Eve.</p><p>She finds the bin overflowing from neglect and huffs. </p><p>
  <em>Gee thanks, yesterday Eve.</em>
</p><p>Eve crams it into the bin anyway, fighting with the lid before giving up and letting it sit open. Another deep gulp lands cold in her stomach.</p><p>
  <em>It’s all fucked, we’ll never know what Aaron is selling, or who he’s selling it to. I should be upset. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s all so messy.</em>
</p><p>Eve locks her fingers behind her head and puts the weight on her elbows.</p><p>
  <em>Niko is gone and it should hurt, I know it should hurt. It does hurt, I think. I probably don’t have a job anymore, and that should hurt too, or at least I should feel something.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m angry it’s fucked, that I fucked it up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No more Carolyn, no more Kenny, no more Jess… no more Niko. It’s all gone, gone, gone.</em>
</p><p>Eve starts shaking her head at a weak attempt at stopping the thought that’s coming.</p><p>
  <em>No more Villanelle.</em>
</p><p>“No, no, no, no no no.”</p><p>
  <em>If we’re not working together then what’s… what are we now, after?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is there a ‘we’ after all this? Is there even a ‘we’ now?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I shot her down pretty definitively and haven’t exactly been nice to her. But I didn’t want to be mean, I don’t want to be mean to her.</em>
</p><p>Red lips, the hilt of a dagger, creamy thighs.</p><p>
  <em>I still want her. </em>
</p><p>Her ears start to ring with how hard she shakes her head.</p><p>
  <em>You can’t want her. You pushed her away, were mean to her and told her no.</em>
</p><p>She needs to do something.</p><p>The stairs prove to be more challenging than she bargained for. Blood pounds in her ears once she reaches the top and she nearly trips on the hallway rug on her way to the bathroom.</p><p>Her clothes fight back when she tries to take them off, getting her ears caught in her turtleneck and having to tug hard at the hem of her pants. Finally victorious, she flings them off without a care where they land.</p><p>When she turns the knob in the shower the water comes out quick and freezing and she’s backed into a corner of cold tiles.</p><p>“Nooo,” she whines and cowers while the water starts to warm. Once it’s hot she settles easily into her routine.</p><p><em>I don’t feel anything echoes in her skull,</em> as if she’d never taken out the earpiece.</p><p>Soap, hotter.</p><p>
  <em>No matter what I do,</em>
</p><p>Shampoo, hotter.</p><p>
  <em>I try, and I try,</em>
</p><p>Conditioner, hotter. </p><p>
  <em>Nothing.</em>
</p><p>Hotter, hotter, hotter.</p><p>The water will never be as blistering as Villanelle’s blood on her hands. When she stumbles out of the shower her skin is as red and angry as she feels.</p><p>Eve is no stranger to waking up hungover, but waking up hungover in a towel is a first that feels pretty shitty. Waking up hungover in a towel and then having to do your own private walk of shame through the house is exceptionally shitty, especially if you have work in a couple hours. </p><p>When she pops some Advil she notices that her thumb’s starting to look swollen and on the verge of becoming infected, but a bandaid will cover that nicely.</p><p>Villanelle’s key is heavy in her hand where she stands on the tarmac. It feels like she doesn’t deserve to have unfettered access to where she lives. She steadies herself before slipping it into the lock and opening the door.</p><p>“I got my date with Aaron,” she hears Villanelle before she sees her, quelling Eve’s non-existent worries surrounding her employment. She’s reclined on her massive bed, reading a book and wearing a gorgeous silk robe.</p><p>
  <em>Even bare-faced and without fancy clothes she’s absolutely beautiful. I mean, she’s always been beautiful, but now she seems so… human. Smaller, somehow. Intimate.</em>
</p><p>Eve’s eyes flick out of curiosity to what she’s reading- philosophy, for the case. </p><p>
  <em>Oh. Right.</em>
</p><p>“Great,” back to business, “let’s start.”</p><p>“I’m not dressed-”</p><p>“I don't care,” she says while stripping out of her coat, and catches her own eye in a mirror behind Villanelle.</p><p>She slows, then stops, because it simply isn't true- it wasn’t true yesterday and it still isn’t today. The realization settles solid in her chest as she turns to sit on the mattress and exhales.</p><p>
  <em>I do care, I care so much- too much, maybe.</em>
</p><p>“You okay?” Villanelle’s voice is early-morning hoarse behind her.</p><p>“I don't know,” and this time, she really doesn’t.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know where I’m doing or what I’m doing. I don’t know what I feel anymore, I just don’t know… anything</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except that I do care. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>About you.</em>
</p><p>The mattress sinks and shifts behind her as Villanelle crawls to sit next to her, “do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>
  <em>I want you.</em>
</p><p>It’s barely contact but the feeling of Villanelle’s shoulder against her own makes her blood rush all the same. Her perfume smells sweet as she leans closer.</p><p>
  <em>I miss you.</em>
</p><p>“I really don’t-”</p><p>“You’ll feel better if you do… honesty is the best policy,” Eve fights to get the sleeves of her blazer back in place.</p><p>“Oh, two AA meetings and suddenly you’re the expert on honesty?”</p><p>Villanelle shrugs easily, “yeah.”</p><p>Eve turns round to face her once her work clothes are back in order and her thin veneer of professionalism is back in place.</p><p>“You know those things you said in the meeting?” she avoids looking too long at the soft wisps of sleep-laden hair.</p><p>“Which parts?”</p><p>“You said,” she inhales, “you don’t want anything. You don’t like anything, that you’re bored… do you mean it?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she half shrugs.</p><p>“You don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not?”</p><p>Villanelle’s eyes move with hesitancy from left to right, “not, really?”</p><p>“You don’t feel <em>anything?”</em> she tries to disguise the falter in her question with a sigh.</p><p>Villanelle leans forward with determination writ on her features, the robe parting a touch with the motion. It’s a little alarming, the pace that she can shift like that.</p><p>“I feel things when I am with you.”</p><p>Eve’s heart softens.</p><p>
  <em>We are the same.</em>
</p><p>A calmness spreads across her back and down her spine.</p><p>
  <em>We really are.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I feel things when I’m with you, too.</em>
</p><p>She opens her mouth to speak when a doorknob clicks and turns behind her, pulling her eyes to a young twenty-something with mussed hair and smudged eye makeup. She pulls her coat around herself and smiles bashfully, “thank you…”</p><p>Eve straightens her back and leans away from Villanelle. She swallows what she was about to say.</p><p>“For the, um…” the girl continues.</p><p>“The sex?” Villanelle finishes quietly.</p><p>“Yeah,” she bites her lip and tucks her hair behind her ear. Eve clenches her jaw and stares at the wall, trying very hard to not picture the two of them together. It sends hot shame to her gut.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Villanelle sounds sincere.</p><p>Before the girls boots finish clicking down the stairs Villanelle whispers, “I couldn’t remember her name… could you tell?”</p><p>“Aaron Peele is going to Rome,” Eve stands and pulls a jacket sleeve back on without looking up, “we think that’s where the sale is taking place.”</p><p>Villanelle crawls closer on the bed and teases, “don’t be jealous.” Eve looks at her but doesn’t even bother denying it- she’s the one who put a stop to it, after all. </p><p>She just didn’t think it would hurt this much if she was the one to do it.</p><p>“You know-” Villanelle leans closer on the bed, “I’m not <em>with</em> them, when I’m with them.”</p><p>
  <em>Them?</em>
</p><p>Another pair of heels click behind her and reveal a blonde woman tugging a plush blue jacket on.</p><p>“Bye!” she calls before a swift exit.</p><p>
  <em>Them?!</em>
</p><p>“Anyone else here?!” Eve shouts to the apartment before whirling back to Villanelle.</p><p>“I don’t, think so,” she shakes her head, “mm, <em>definitely</em> not.”</p><p>Eve shakes her head of any thoughts of a morning spent in Villanelle’s bed.</p><p>“I’m going to work,” and tosses a thick file at Villanelle’s bed, “read the file this time. You text Aaron.”</p><p>She turns around and starts to leave, “charm his face off and get us to Rome.”</p><p>Eve denies Villanelle the pleasure of seeing her angry tears when she calls out, “whatever you say, boss.” </p><p>About a block away she can’t keep it in anymore. She leans up against a brick wall and heaves what are meant to be deep breaths through tears.</p><p>
  <em>I want her, I miss her.</em>
</p><p>It’s not supposed to hurt like this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you so much for reading my fic</p><p>next, to rome!</p><p>comments are welcome and extremely appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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